Queen's Gambit
by stillslightlynerdy
Summary: The Heir to the Crocus Throne of Arendelle is away on the honeymoon of her dreams. This leaves Queen Elsa and her lover time and privacy to develop their own relationship in peace and quiet. But enemies are determined to have their revenge and spoil the happily ever afters for the Arendelle Royals. Part 3 of the femslash fun that is FitzElsa. Part 1 OUaTiA, Part 2 Queen's Rook
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

 _ **Aboard the HRM Idunn**_

The eighteen gun, ship-rigged, sloop-of-war HRM _Idunn_ plowed through the waves of the cold North Sea. It was a glorious late September day, all bright sun and brisk ocean breeze, and she was headed home. It had been a brief patrol, a just a short week, and an uneventful one. Still her crew was impatient to return to land and their loved ones. Even her captain was happy to be on the return, and not only because she was currently stuck in her cabin finishing up log entries. For as much as Captain Fitzwilliam loved the sea and loved her ship, she had finally found something — someone — to love more, and that someone was waiting for her - well, would be waiting for her after she finished with the business of being queen. Further, with Anna and Kristoff's extended honeymoon tour of continental Europe scheduled to end soon, Fitz wanted to get in as much private time as she could with Elsa.

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate Anna and Kristoff, too. It was just that time with Elsa when her sister was around was often not particularly private. Anna was a brilliant whirlwind of energy, who acted with limited forethought and never backed down from a challenge, qualities Fitz recognized and appreciated in herself. Kristoff was as stalwart and steadfast a man as Fitz had ever met, someone who would make a tremendous First Officer, or in Anna's case a patient husband. However no matter what their charms, having Elsa to herself — sharing her only with the small rather sleepy kingdom that was Arendelle — had been a treat, and one Fitz intended to savor for every last moment.

That lovely thought was interrupted by a knock at her cabin door.

"Enter." Fitzwilliam was seated behind her desk in her rather spartan cabin, which lacked the ornate teak furniture and thick oriental rugs she had enjoyed on her last ship, The Vigilant. She didn't look up from the illegible scrawl that was her logbook, but she did hear her door open and close smartly.

"Captain."

Now she looked up. Midshipman Anker, their newest recruit, was standing rigidly braced at attention.

"Mr. Anker?"

Anker was on his first assignment in Arendelle's navy although nearly a man at sixteen. Arendelle started its officers at an older age than Fitz was used to and kept them longer too, if the graying cadre of other Captains was any indication. He was a capable lad, reasonably strong, reasonably smart, but he was shy. Most new midshipman were, but Anker suffered the triple threat of being shy, being a young man just starting to appreciate that women came in flavors other than his mother, and being a Midshipman aboard a sloop-of-war whose captain was a woman.

It wasn't as if most people would correctly guess Fitz's gender even on the second meeting, hidden as it was under layers of linen, silk and wool. She looked like most officers of her station, tanned, broad-shouldered, tall, with an air of competence and surety that bordered on arrogance. But Anker knew that she was a woman, a mysterious and vaguely notorious woman, one whom several ladies of his acquaintance tittered over, and that accentuated his shyness. And so, he was always on the losing end of a battle to keep his eyes and mind fixed where they needed to be on board ship.

"Mr. Anker."

The boy jumped at edge in her voice and pulled his gaze up from where he was staring at the small miniature of the queen that the Captain kept on her desk. Fitz reached out and snapped shut the waterproof case that enclosed it.

"If you please, Midshipman."

Anker began in a nervous rush, "Captain, Mr. Meilde reports that we've sighted the fjord's mouth, sir. He estimates an hour to the harbor at our current speed."

Fitz raised an eyebrow at the young man. In Avalon respects would be tendered with any message to a captain or there would be hell to pay. More specifically this Captain preferred not to be called "sir," a point she had already made more than once to this particular midshipman.

Indeed she was the first woman in Arendelle's navy. She had also been the first woman in Avalon's, and she remembered well the struggles she had faced over everything from proper uniforms to the proper manner of address. It hadn't been until she had a command of her own that she had managed to be addressed consistently in accordance with her gender, but once she had that command, she had prevailed. Now that she had her own command here, she had no intention of losing that hard earned ground.

"Send Mr. Meilde my compliments and tell him I'll be joining him momentarily." Then more sternly she continued, "And I'll thank you to please remember the form of address I prefer."

"Aye, aye ..." Mr. Anker hesitated a moment, blushed, and Fitz mouthed the word 'ma'am' ... "Ma'am."

Small victories were still a step in the right direction. "Good man. Rightly done. We'll make an officer of you yet, Mr. Anker."

The boy nodded again and flung himself out the door to make his escape. Fitz waited to chuckle until the door shut behind him and his boots sounded heavy on the ladder to the deck. She could remember being that boy, although in a very different Navy. Then she stood and began to pack up her log book in its heavy oilskin.

The differences between Avalon and Arendelle were stark. Avalon was constantly at war, Arendelle had been at peace for hundreds of years. Arendelle replaced inedible salted beef with inedible pickled fish as the shipboard meal of choice. But most notably Avalon was a nation with a society that relished formality, with rigid class structures that were equally in place on land or sea. In Arendelle, relationships between the crew and the officers, and junior officers with their superiors were much less formal. There were, Fitz realized, many reasons for this. Arendelle had almost no aristocracy to draw its officers from. There was a baron or two and one foreign born count, but most of the naval officers came from the merchant class, as did much of the crew. Further Arendelle was very small, and so everyone knew everyone. There was a certain informality that came when everyone knew the name of the first girl you'd kissed, and whether or not you were her first. Arendelle's size and history had left it with egalitarian attitudes, although nothing so extreme as the Americans or — Fitz held back the urge to spit on her cabin floor at the thought of Avalon's traditional enemy — the Gauls.

Add to this fact, all of Arendelle's crew were volunteers unlike Avalon where more than one man had been snatched from his peaceful life ashore and thrust unwillingly onto a ship and into a war. Knowing that more than half your crew were essentially prisoners did make for a more tense relationship with them. Lastly there was the example of Arendelle's own royalty. Rigid formality had no place in a kingdom where the Princess was known for her pig catching, pie destroying, unintentional fjord swimming ways, as well as being always eager to help the townsfolk, and the Queen held skating parties in her courtyard and did her own decorating. With her own magic.

Fitz reopened the miniature case, looked at the image of her beloved, and mused that the events that led her into treason and exile were a blessing in disguise. The little painting itself had been its own tiny battle, but one that Fitz had finally won. It wasn't that Elsa wasn't used to having her portrait painted. Portraits were almost a weekly obligation for the queen. But this wasn't like her other portraits, her official portraits.

True, she was standing in a three quarters pose as was traditional, hands demurely clasped at her waist, and the queen was always beautiful, no matter who the artist. However instead of bulky robes of state, in this portrait Elsa was wearing the ice dress that she wore everyday, a dress that always figured prominently in Fitz's thoughts of her. Her expression was not the solemn look she affected for official portraits, gaze fixed at some nether distance, face carefully neutral and serious. No, what made this image one of Fitz's most treasured possessions was that here Elsa was relaxed and happy, the woman Fitz felt blessed to have come to know. This Elsa had a sure, almost sly smile, and eyes that sparkled with intelligence and more than a little mischief. It was the look that reminded Fitz she was the lucky one to find someone this strong, this adventurous. And, it was the look that Fitz saw at night in the flickering candle light.

"Captain! Captain!" This time the door to her cabin slammed open, and Midshipman Anker was gasping as he flung himself through. "Mr. Meilde says you must come immediately, sir."

Something in Anker's tone told Fitz this was not the time for niceties, and she charged out of her cabin and up the main ladder with a speed that matched the urgency in Anker's voice.

Her head had only just emerged from the hatch when she saw it. A swirl of ominous black clouds ahead of them to the east, right where the main port of Arendelle would be. Right where the castle would be. Right where Elsa would be.

As Fitz took her place on the quarterdeck the temperature fell and the wind gusted. She reflexively looked to the _Idunn's_ sails. They billowed, and then a freezing wind began swirling snow flakes in a frenzied spiral around the mastheads. It was late September; much to early for snow, even in Arendelle. The crew were all staring wide-eyed up at the sky, some frightened, some just amazed, but all unnerved. They had seen this before.

Fitz made a quick calculation and then a prayer that her faith in the ship was well placed. The safe thing to do was to take down some sail in the face of the rising storm, but she was in a hurry.

"Commander Meilde!" She bellowed over the shriek of the wind at her first officer. "T'gallants, if you please, then raise the royals. Best speed possible for home!"

 _ **Castille, the last stop on the honeymoon tour (two weeks earlier)**_

"Anna. You're dragging me away from a ball to visit," Kristoff looked to his wife, Princess Anna of Arendelle, in disbelief, "the stable?"

The Castillian summer night was quite warm, but it was cooler here in the gardens than in the stuffy ballroom. Lively music wafted from the castle. Isabella, the young queen of Castille, knew how to throw a party, and it was packed with nobility from the entire realm. Everyone had wanted to see the newly-wedded Prince and Princess of Arendelle, whose sister just also happened to magically control ice and snow. In fact, Kristoff and Anna had caused a stir wherever they had gone in continental Europe.

"You're the one who thinks reindeer are better than people." Anna replied tucking her arm through Kristoff's as they walked. "And horses are sort of like reindeer. So, I thought they might make good company, too. And after tonight, I'm really up for some 'not people' company. I mean except for you."

"So it was the Castillian royalty who finally did you in," Kristoff chuckled. When they had started their honeymoon grand tour, a gift from Elsa, Anna had been excited to meet everyone, see everything, do everything. But after three months of balls and formal dinners and receiving lines even Anna seemed ready to go home. Kristoff himself had already been ready, ready before Castille, ready before Allmany, possibly ready before even the first stop in Stockholm.

"Especially that awful man, the queen's cousin. Or is he an uncle? Carlos. Ugh. You know, when they told me I would meet the Infante Carlos, I figured he was a baby. And I would have enjoyed hanging out with a baby. Who knew it meant that 'annoying stuck up full of himself scheming royal person who will never get near the throne because no one trusts him'?"

Kristoff laughed heartily, "And here I thought you were sad because you only got one dance with him."

"Hmph!" Anna snorted. "Fortunately I learned all I needed to know about driving away dance partners from the Duke of Weaseltown. I'm a master of the trodden toe."

Kristoff pulled her to him and wrapped her in his arms. "A little stepping on my toes wouldn't keep me away. Not from a beautiful woman like you."

"Oh, you smooth talker."

"I am getting better at that, aren't I?" Kristoff pointed at himself with a cocky flip of his wrist.

"You are getting better at everything," Anna sighed with a fond smile. Then she realized what she had said. "Not that you were bad, you know, at everything. Or anything. Really you were quite good. Are good. I mean really good. Gooder than I expected."

"Even at," Kristoff lowered his head to whisper softly in her ear, "diplomacy."

Anna gave his arm a playful smack. "Yes, diplomacy, too." Then she raised her head high. "I think we've both been good. Elsa will be so pleased when we get back. I can't wait to tell her about all the markets we've found for timber and fish."

"And ice," Kristoff added. How could she forget ice?

"Of course ice. That was a given. Especially since I have the "ice master" at my side."

"Ice master? Is that what I am?"

"Yes. Prince Kristoff of Arendelle, the Master of Ice."

"Kinda hard to be THE master of ice in a kingdom with your sister."

"Pshaw! She's the queen of ice and snow. There's a huge difference."

"There is?"

Anna thought. "Well, for one she never scratches me with her beard when she kisses me."

"That's the best you can do? We're talking about my finer points and all you can think of is my scratchy face," Kristoff pouted.

"I didn't say I didn't like it," Anna explained. "I mean it's all manly and stuff, and every prince I've seen has been jealous of you, well except for Edmund and he was jealous of me, you know 'cause you're all hairy and tall and strong and manly, and that's certainly one thing Elsa isn't is manly — or hairy, I mean except on her head - and - and how did we get on this subject again?"

"I dunno," Kristoff shrugged. He was quite used to Anna's stream of consciousness conversations, "but I think we should test this manly beard scratching during kissing thing. See if still holds."

Anna batted her eyelashes and leaned in closer. "Why, Your Highness. What a delightful ..." she stopped when she heard the rustle of straw, and sighed. "I thought the stable would be deserted," Anna grumbled at the retreating silhouette of a what was probably a groom.

"Hey, you picked the stable. Not me."

"I guess we can walk out to the -"

Suddenly a voice rang out. "Princess Anna?"

"Nuts," Anna groused. "They found us."

A man in the livery of the castle appeared at the other side of the barn. "Princess Anna? You're being requested at the castle."

"Just stay here." Anna winked at Kristoff. "I'll be right back, and we can find an even more secluded spot in the garden. Old Infante was talking about a gazebo that was very romantic in the moonlight."

"Sure thing," Kristoff nodded.

Once Anna had left with the servant, Kristoff walked slowly to the nearest stall and gently stroked the nose of the horse tied there. Anna was right, it was nice to be back around the relative sanity of horses. Sure they could be skittish and delicate, but compared to your average royal courtier they were the very soul of stolid sanity.

But he also had to admit this trip had been magnificent. Neither he nor Anna had been outside of Arendelle before, well he had gone briefly to Sweden with Fitz, but he had been in fear for his life most of the time and so didn't count that. The world outside of Arendelle was amazing. Beautiful, frantic, imposing, often the same, and sometimes so very different. Sure he knew they only saw the best of what each Kingdom had to offer, but then he also knew what poverty looked like, and he suspected it was the same everywhere. He had no need to repeat that experience.

Best of all he was with Anna. He had always cherished her as a friend. She was fun and crazy and unbelievably loyal and loving. But as a wife, she was all this and more. Every morning he woke up and thought how lucky he was. He had the beautiful brilliant fun princess by day, and the beautiful brilliant oh so alluring princess at night. The snoring, messy hair, and tendency to drool when sleeping were just bonuses on top of that.

Speaking of which, he thought, where was Anna? It had been more than the few minutes she had promised.

Kristoff started back up the dark path to the castle. She had probably gotten trapped into another dance with someone. There were all these confusing rules about having to dance with strange people or you couldn't dance at all, and while Kristoff had decided not knowing the rules was to his advantage since then he didn't have to follow them, apparently someone "born as a Princess" couldn't claim ignorance.

Kristoff could see the castle in the distance but the light shining in the windows fell far short of illuminating the path here. In the dark he kicked something. He picked it up. It was a fan. It was Anna's fan. That was odd, he thought.

 _ **Arendelle Harbor – Navy Dock**_

Fitz jumped off the _Idunn_ as soon as it touched the quay. She had tendered her salute to the colors even before that. She started for the castle at a sprint as the snowfall began to intensify. On the way she could hear the townsfolk confused and concerned, mostly they were saying "the queen, is she alright?"

When she got inside, where apparently most of the staff had not noticed the unusual weather, she found out that the Queen was in an audience with a messenger that had come and insisted that his missive could be delivered only to the her and no one else. The messenger was from Avalon. Fitz didn't wait to hear more. She took the stairs up the main stair case two at a time headed for the throne room.

 _ **Castle Courtyard, Castille (two weeks earlier)**_

"Anna?" Kristoff called out as he walked swiftly back to the castle, holding her fan. "Are you OK?"

"She's fine, my friend."

Kristoff whipped around to find himself face to point with a very sharp sword, inches from his right eye. The man who wielded it was in the livery of the castle but partially masked, a wide brimmed hat obscuring his eyes.

"Who the hell are you? Where's Anna?"

"Never mind who I am." The man answered tersely. "But unless you wish to die right here, you will cooperate with us. You and your beautiful princess will be safe as long as you both behave."

Kristoff heard the sound of grunting and a struggle. Both he and the other man were surprised when Anna appeared, a ruffian unsuccessfully trying to subdue her. She grabbed at the hands that were wrapped around her waist, pulled and twisted hard. Kristoff heard a sick crackle and then a howl as the ruffian dropped to his knees. Anna then turned and kicked him so hard that he fell backward into a heap. His companions moved backwards away from her, each exhorting the other to step in.

"Run Kristoff! Run!" She shouted.

The man with the sword stepped half a pace forward.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He held his gaze on Kristoff as he called out more loudly. "Princess, unless you want your man without an eye, or perhaps without a head, you'll calm down and stop fighting. We really only need you. Our pay's the same if he dies."

"What?" Anna stopped, still ready to flee down the path to the castle. But after one exchanged glance with Kristoff, she sagged and raised her hands. Another ruffian roughly pulled her back into the shadows. As Kristoff was pulled after her, he thought. 'I knew we should have returned to Arendelle after the last ball.'

 _ **Arendelle Castle, the Throne Room**_

"What is the meaning of this?" Elsa's voice was a taut crystalline whisper, every word forced through tight lips, barely audible over the frigid wind that swirled in her throne room. Part of her still couldn't believe it. Anna and Kristoff kidnapped while on their honeymoon? This man delivering the demand that she arrest Fitz and send her back to Avalon in exchange for her sister's safe return? But the other part of Elsa heard and believed him entirely. It was everything she had feared and expected, all of her worries come to pass. And the fury that came with this realization threatened to overwhelm her. She didn't even try to fight her magic.

Elsa clenched her fist and then the messenger in front of her was covered in ice to his knees. The ice slowly expanded upward.

"Wha – wha – what the message says, Your Majesty," the young man stuttered both from fear and the rising cold. "I – I am a diplomatic messenger from His Grace Allan, the Duke of Ledsham. And he begs you to right a grievous wrong you have perpetrated on his family by harboring that criminal Fitzwilliam."

"Diplo -" Now Elsa stuttered in rage. "Diplomatic! What kind of diplomacy involves kidnapping my sister and her husband. Holding them hostage? Threatening their lives?"

"If you turn over Fitzwilliam, no harm will come to the Princess."

"Oh, she had better not be harmed, or you and the blackguard who sent you will be digging yourselves, your lands — the entire kingdom of Avalon out of the snow for the next hundred years."

"If you turn over Fitzwilliam -"

The ice crackled as it spread across the messenger's chest and up his neck. "Please, please," he begged. "You can't -"

"Oh, can't I?" Elsa started forward, her magic demanding to end this, to end the man himself. It would be so easy.

"Your Majesty!" The doors burst open and Captain Fitzwilliam herself burst through, dragging two guards behind as they tried to stop her. "Elsa!" Fitz took a look at the tableau in front of her. "Elsa, stop! This isn't you!"

Elsa swung her icy gaze around at Fitz, and stared at her for a long moment. She flicked her fingers and the messenger dropped to the floor as the ice holding him disappeared.

"Seize Captain Fitzwilliam and take her to the dungeons," she ordered.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

 _ **The dungeon of Castle Arendelle**_

Fitz shivered. It was freezing in the dungeon. It was freezing in all of Arendelle. Elsa had made no pretense of controlling the storm that swirled out of her, and by the time Fitz managed to race to the castle, snow and ice had covered everything has far as she could see. But not one person on her frantic run had complained. Word of what had happened to the Princess and her husband spread quickly. The people of Arendelle understood why the ice storm radiated from the castle. Fitz certainly understood, and she was prepared to do whatever it took to see Anna and Kristoff safely back. Even if that meant trading her life for theirs, as the heir to the duchy of Ledsham seemed to require.

Fitz knew this calamity should be laid at her feet. It had been her father, King William of Avalon, who had sent the Duke of Ledsham to Arendelle with one purpose: to bring back Elsa, either by marriage or other nefarious means. William had not counted on the fact that his bastard daughter, Captain M.C. Fitzwilliam, commanding officer of Vigilant - the ship that had escorted Ledsham, would fall in love with Elsa and commit treason rather than betray her.

Between Fitz's refusal to comprise Elsa and Elsa's own formidable ice magic, Ledsham had limped back to Avalon on the half destroyed Vigilant — a failure.

Since then Fitz had heard from her half brother Edmund that William had hanged Ledsham as punishment for that failure. Ledsham's son and heir, the new Duke of Ledsham, blamed Fitz for his father's execution, wanted revenge, and had kidnapped Anna and Kristoff to exchange for her.

"What a mess. Young Ledsham has focused in on the one weakness Elsa has – the love for her sister." Fitz muttered. "Now we have to figure out how to rescue Anna, alive, or else –" Fitz tried not to imagine the glaciers that would cover the entire planet if something happened to Anna. _Fimbulwinter_ wouldn't begin to describe it.

A door scraped open in the distance. Fitz heard footfalls coming down the stone corridor that circled through the dungeons. She couldn't see who was coming, but she was unsurprised when whomever it was stopped outside the thick wooden door of her cell. The royal dungeons were never used, so Fitz was alone in them. Elsa had once joked that she thought she was one of only two people held there in her lifetime, the other being Hans of the Southern Isles. It had been funny at the time, upstairs after dinner sipping a fine brandy in a sitting room with a warm fire. Now it just seemed sad. Fitz could imagine how it must have felt for Elsa to wake up alone, frightened, and guilty — in a cell in her own palace.

As the door creaked open, Fitz stood up and moved away, both for formality and to assure whomever it was she meant no harm. Perhaps she would be delivered to Avalon promptly. Certainly there was nothing to be gained by waiting.

It was Kai who appeared on the other side, propping the door open with a firm shove. Then he stepped aside and gestured into the cell.

Elsa, illuminated only for a moment by the light from the corridor, stepped through the doorway. She was drawn and shaking. Her lips were a thin line, and she worried her hands, one inside the other. She took two steps and then rushed into Fitz's arms.

Fitz held her tightly as she shivered and sobbed.

"They have Anna. Oh god. They took Anna!"

Fitz gave her a squeeze, willing her strength into the queen."I know," she said, lips at Elsa's ear, "but we will get her back. This I swear."

"Yes, we will," Elsa answered after a long moment. She let go of Fitz and straightened herself up. "You and I will go rescue Anna. But we have to do it before anyone knows we are trying, or they might kill her and Kristoff. So we're leaving now while it's still dark."

There was a long terrible interval when Fitz was speechless, so completely dumbfounded that she had no idea what to say. Then she found her voice, "What? What did you say? You want to — to —"

"I intend to rescue my sister from those monsters, and I will need your help to do it." Except for her red-rimmed eyes, Elsa could have been in her throne room. Her voice was firm, her back was ramrod straight, and her eyes focused and unyielding.

"No," Fitz's response was automatic, a reflex from deep within her. "No, you are not."

"Yes, I am," Elsa countered, spacing her words to emphasize her intent. Then she went to the bed and began to root around through a pack Kai had placed there. She pulled out a set of guards' uniforms and laid them out. Her tone changed, she spoke as if this was an ordinary situation. "Kai has arranged for another guard to come down shortly. She's about your height and build. She'll take your place here in the dungeon while we leave for wherever this Ledsham place is."

"It's impossible!"

"She volunteered," Elsa continued on, glancing inside the band of a shako, looking for the size.

"That's not the bloody problem!" Fitz roared. "You cannot do such a thing, cannot put yourself in danger like this. You absolutely cannot! You're the bloody queen! What in hell are you thinking?"

Elsa looked up and then dismissed Kai, "If you would wait outside for just a moment please?"

The butler murmured, "Yes, Your Majesty," and withdrew.

When the door had closed Elsa wheeled on Fitz. "First let me make clear that I am indeed still the queen, and you will not tell me what I can or cannot do."

"But Arendelle ..."

"Arendelle needs both of us. I can't rule without Anna."

"You're the queen; you can't risk your life …"

"And Anna didn't risk hers when she came after me?" Elsa argued. "Anna ran after me, climbed up a mountain, fought off wolves, was struck down by MY magic for her trouble, and THEN she ran in front of a sword for me — never thinking that she would be saved." Elsa's eyes flashed; she clenched her fist. "I am not, I repeat NOT, leaving my sister's fate in the hands of a madman, and I certainly won't hand you over to to him either."

"But — but," Fitz sputtered, "why not? I'm not indispensable to Arendelle. I am quite capable of handling myself, in fact I was trained for just such a situation. I am the logical choice."

"Not to me, you're not! And if I give in to the demands of every lunatic or power-hungry despot who makes a threat then there will be no end of threats." She glared at Fitz, daring her to disagree.

"Elsa, that's not a good reason for you, the sovereign of this kingdom, to put herself in danger." Fitz desperately tried to hold her temper. "You don't even know if there would be another threat."

Elsa seemed to will herself to return calm to her voice, an icy implacable calm."Tell me, Carolina, what would the King of Avalon do in this case? What would King William do?"

Fitz answered without hesitation."He would send his army and raze this bastard's castle to the ground, which yes, I understand is to warn off anyone else who would do the same thing. But he wouldn't go himself — certainly not alone."

"But you see, don't you," Elsa pleaded. "Arendelle doesn't have an army. The Navy is too small to both attack a foreign stronghold and defend Arendelle, and I'm not leaving my Kingdom wide open for Weselton or the Southern Isles to decide to invade. What Arendelle has is me. I am currently her most potent weapon, and I am also the reason Anna is in this mess."

"What?" Fitz had experience with Elsa's deep-seated guilt, and as it was Anna who was in danger, it wasn't a surprise that the queen's first thought was to blame herself. But as far as Fitz was concerned it wasn't true. "You shouldn't think that. It's me that they want, revenge for the Duke's execution."

Elsa cut her off with a wave of her her hand. "If I weren't who I am — if I couldn't do what I can do, then Avalon would never have noticed Arendelle, Ledsham never would have been sent here, he wouldn't have been executed, and none of this would have happened. My powers have put Arendelle in the eye of the rest of the world for good or ill, and now I intend to use those powers to make sure the rest of the world doesn't underestimate us again." Elsa exhaled. "And besides, I'm not going alone. You're going with me."

Fitz bit back some ill-considered words. Elsa was not really making sense, but pointing that out wasn't going to change anything. "I hate to disappoint you, love. But I have not rescued many princesses."

"No, but you know where we need to go. You know how to sail. You have experience. You have fought — people." Elsa sighed, clearly frustrated. "And you have experience with killing. With killing people, which is what we're going to have to do. At least it's what I expect we'll have to do. You've killed people — and I," she dropped her eyes to the floor, almost embarrassed. "And I haven't."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of, you know."

"I know." Elsa answered. "But not having done it, I'm afraid — I don't know," She took a deep breath, and it caught in her throat. "I am afraid of what may happen if I'm too angry. My powers are tied to my emotions, and if they have harmed — or," she couldn't yet say the word, it might make it true, "or done anything to Anna, I may need you to help me stop — stop killing people." Her voice turned thick as tears welled up again. "Keep me from destroying an entire country, as I almost destroyed this one." With that, Elsa closed her eyes and when she reopened them they were clear. "I am going to do this. I have to go after Anna. And I need you. Will you come with me?"

There was only one answer to that, "Of course, I'm coming with you." She stuck out her hand. "Hand me that uniform. But there is one condition."

"A condition?"

"If it comes to a point where one of us is to go into danger, where one of us is likely to be killed, it has to be me." Elsa started to say something, but Fitz gestured that she would brook no protest. "I swore an oath to you, Your Majesty, to obey you, but I also swore one to Arendelle. To protect you. You must give me your word, that you will allow me to protect you."

Elsa thought and then nodded reluctantly. "You have my word."

 _ **The North Sea - midpoint between Arendelle and the Southern Isles, heading SSW**_

 _What now?_ Fitz thought.

They were in a gaff-rigged smack, the largest boat Fitz thought she could handle alone, having no misconceptions about Elsa's sailing abilities even if she weren't half out of her mind with grief. It was a one-masted three-sailed boat, part of Arendelle's large fishing fleet. It had been one of four identical boats tied up at the main quay, all with the name "Seas the Day" painted on the back and numbered I through IV. Elsa thought one owner must have all four boats in his fleet, and so could better stand to have one boat "borrowed," although Elsa used the word 'commandeer.' Fitz thought it meant someone had hired Princess Anna to name their boats.

They had slipped out of the harbor without anyone noticing, stealthily making their way out to sea a couple of hours before dawn. Now they were flying along through the North Sea, going faster, Fitz knew, than any boat of this size should be traveling.

The sun was up, and the day was beautiful, clear and warm, or at least warm for the North Sea in September. However, the temperature inside the little boat was chilling. Fitz stood at the helm, where she could both steer and make adjustments to the sails. Sail-work was hardly necessary since Elsa was providing the stiff wind that powered the boat and could place it precisely as needed, so Fitz mostly concentrated on steering and worrying.

Elsa sat amidships just back of the fish well. She was huddled, arms wrapped protectively around herself, her stare fixed on the mainsail as she literally willed the boat to go faster. Elsa hadn't spoken since they had made their way out to the sea. Fitz had tried to engage her more than once. But the howl of the wind rushing by was too loud, they were too far apart, and if she was honest with herself Elsa was just plain ignoring her.

It was the pressure, Fitz reasoned, although she had seen Elsa deal with pressure before. Never had she seen her like this, her eyes so haunted, her face so vacant, even her skin had lost its usual pink luster, leaving her pale and gray against the mid-morning sky. She was like a statue, gray and unmoving, lacking any of the telltales of life. The only thing that stirred within Elsa was whatever power made this cold, raging wind that moved the boat.

At this rate, they would make it to the northern region of Avalon, the Highlands, where the Ledsham duchy was located, in a matter of days. It had taken the Vigilant, the 74 gun ship of the line that had been Fitz's former command and not a slow ship, two weeks to make a similar sail. They would arrive at their destination well before the boat from Arendelle that was carrying the reply to the kidnapper's demands, or a guards-woman posing as Fitz, or any of the other options that Fitz knew must be the other half of this mad plan. But then what?

Fitz was, and not only by her own estimation, a gifted tactician, and had this been a normal fight – a straight up wartime skirmish – she had no doubt she would prevail with minimal casualties. But this was not a normal fight, her army consisted of only the queen of Arendelle, and they could afford no casualties. Further any display of force that did not immediately free Anna and Kristoff could result in their deaths.

So they needed to be stealthy. They needed a plan so air-tight and devious that the surprised heir to Ledsham would be unable to have imagined it and thus be unprepared to defend against it. And that was the problem. Fitz was many things, but never had she been considered devious. She was even less stealthy.

As Fitz glanced down at the compass to check their heading, an idea wiggled its way into her head. She wasn't devious, but she knew someone who was. Someone who would have vital information as well. Someone who, given that the departed Ledsham had been a puffed up prig with the futile desire to be a man of influence both in politics and romance, would have visited the Ledsham family estate for at least one of his notoriously awful parties. Her eyes drifted back to Elsa, still unmoving and grim. She knew the queen was not going to like this idea. She would not like it one bit, but it was their best chance for success.

"Elsa!" Fitz shouted over the shrill whistle of the wind. "Elsa!"

"What?" Elsa snarled back.

"Slow down, we need to talk. Please."

Fitz hoped that she could reason with the queen. Elsa was always reasonable and thoughtful. She carefully considered plans and avoided rash decisions. The only time they quarreled, when Elsa lost her temper, was when Fitz pressed too hard, getting too excited or loud or eager herself. So the trick was to not make that mistake, she would be calm and collected.

"We're not slowing down. We don't need to talk. We need to get to Anna!" With a flip of her wrist the Snow Queen created a gale force gust that had the ship heeling nearly sideways.

Fitz grabbed the wheel to keep from going over board and looked on in horror as water began to flow over the gunwale. Grunting against the merciless drag of the wind, Fitz managed to pull out the belaying pin holding the main sheet and let the mainsail loose to luff in the wind. With only the jib and the stay sail to power it, the small boat slowed rapidly - righting itself.

"What are you doing?" Elsa screamed at Fitz. She rose from the bench she was hunched on and stalked back to confront the captain. "We have to get to Anna!"

"What am I doing?" Fitz yelled back, all thought of calm gone when they had nearly capsized. "What in bloody hell are you doing? You're going to get us killed! Then who in bloody hell is going to rescue Anna and Kristoff?"

Her mind whirled angrily, but Fitz had to anchor her thoughts and regain control of her temper. She had accepted that Elsa was going to do this thing, and that she had to help her. She accepted that Elsa was in despair and so couldn't be held to the unfortunate things she said and would say. But she wasn't going to let this turn into some suicide mission because — because — the thought came on her suddenly — because of Elsa's misplaced guilt.

"That's a risk we'll just have to take then! We need to get to them as quickly as possible. We need to get to them now!" Elsa screamed at her.

"No," Fitz said, taking the time to speak with self-enforced if tenuous calm. She had to remain calm.

"What do you mean, no!" Elsa launched herself in a rage at Fitz, her hands extended as if she would throttle her, but Fitz with the expertise of years of hand to hand combat, easily side stepped and caught Elsa in a tight bear hug as she spun past.

"I mean, no," Fitz said softly in what would have been an intimate gesture in any other circumstance. "You are not going to risk yourself any more than is necessary on this mission."

"I have to!" Elsa yelled. "I have to get to Anna!"

Fitz grit her teeth as a wave of cold washed through her hands and arms. It hurt, but she wasn't letting go. She'd lose her limbs to frostbite first.

"I have to!" Elsa yelled again.

"We will get there. There is plenty of time," Fitz said.

"I have to be there now. It's my fault!"

"No, it's not. There was nothing you could have done."

"It was my fault," Elsa raged, struggling, cold radiating from her body in her distress. "What if she's dead? What if they're both dead."

The ache of cold gave way to what felt like fire running through her arms, but Fitz hung on, still speaking softly."You don't know that."

Elsa continued on, not understanding or not even hearing."It's my fault! It's my fault. I let her go. I got her into this mess. I could have kept her home. What if she's dead already?"

"It's not your fault."

"It is!" Elsa spun around, slamming her hands into Fitz's chest trying to push her back. "I killed her. It's my fault."

Fitz had heard her rationale for blaming herself before, but that was in Arendelle, where she had still felt the need to act the queen. Here in the middle of the sea with no one around but Fitz, she let her fear and guilt out in a torrent. "She's dead. Anna and Kristoff are dead. I killed her … again," she sobbed. "That's all I do. Kill my sister."

"Ssssh," Fitz pulled her close again and waited. She was unsure of how to continue, but equally sure that she needed to stay right here for Elsa.

"I can't do it. I can't be strong. I can't do this."

Fitz gently replied, "Perhaps - just this once - you don't have to be strong. You can let me do it for you. Let me help you. Please."

The fight drained from Elsa as anger gave way to grief. Fitz felt the fiery cold wane and a light snow began to fall around them. Fitz held Elsa and rocked her as she cried. The sobs slowly ebbing into hiccuping gasps. When Fitz thought it was safe to move her, she guided Elsa down to a bench.

With no one at it's helm, the little boat had moved fully into the wind and stalled, so now it rocked gently, and the ocean waves slapped rhythmically against the hull. Fitz and Elsa sat huddled together in a quiet born of exhaustion. They sat there for a while.

Eventually, Elsa lifted her head from Fitz's shoulder and looked up, her eyes sodden with hopelessness.

"No matter what we need to keep going. I have to try. I have to do something."

Fitz stroked her hair and ran a thumb across her brow. "We will, but I want … no, I need, to talk to you."

Elsa nodded.

"We need a plan."

Elsa sat up suddenly, and her face clouded again. "I have a plan," she answered, her ire rekindling as quickly as it fled. "Go to where this Ledsham duchy is and bring in a permanent ice age, ice spiking anyone who gets in my way."

Fitz frowned. "That's likely to get Anna and Kristoff killed."

"I'm going to demand their release first. Then I'm freezing him, his castle, and his duchy."

"You can't do that." Fitz kept her tone reasonable. She didn't even wince when Elsa snapped back with a vehement, "I CAN. You have no idea how powerful I am."

"But you shouldn't," Fitz tried again.

"What do you mean I shouldn't?"

"Elsa, the duchy of Ledsham is in the Highlands, and that is part of Avalon."

Elsa clenched her teeth, and her lip curled, "If I find out William has anything to do with this, I'll freeze all of Avalon as well."

"Please Elsa, you don't want to start a war."

"To get Anna back I will," Elsa snapped.

Fitz sighed. She was certain that the Elsa who was the Queen of Arendelle would understand that laying waste to an entire country, and thus killing hundreds of thousands of people, was not what she wanted to do. She would not want a war that would either destroy Arendelle or its relations with the continent. But she wasn't sure that Elsa the sister understood these things. Not in her current state. But it was Fitz's duty to prevent her from doing anything she would regret. The queen had given that order herself.

"But what if that isn't necessary? What if we could take Anna and Kristoff back and punish only those responsible? Isn't that a better idea."

Elsa didn't answer at first.

"So for that to happen," Fitz plunged on, "we need more information."

"Like what?"

"Like where we are going, for one."

Elsa's brow tightened again. "I thought you knew -"

"I know where the Duchy is, but I have no idea in which castle or manor house Anna and Kristoff would be hidden. I don't even know much at all about that area. I was at sea, thousands of miles away, for most of my life, not touring Avalon, so the lay of the land is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. Not to mention that to navigate there properly, I'll need charts. We both need clothing — and food. This boat is only stocked for short runs near Arendelle. We need supplies, but mostly," Fitz took Elsa's hands and held them trying to convey the importance of her words through her grasp, "we need information."

"And where do you propose getting this information?" Elsa answered.

"I know a place where we can get well supplied and find out anything that is freely known about any of Avalon's nobility, and a few things that are not so freely known."

"We're not going to Winchester to find your brother –

Fitz shook her head. "No, not Edmund, someone else — and I warn you, you might not like it, but I promise it is the best option. Just remember that I love you and only you."

Elsa arched an eyebrow. "Where exactly are we going?"

"To the Free City of Bremen. That's a big port, and we won't be noticed. It is also near to where we are now, and near where we need to go."

"And who will we find in Bremen?"

Fitz stalled the inevitable. "She's not in Bremen, but she's very nearby."

Elsa wasn't a stupid woman. She could put two and two together as well as anyone. There was only one person Fitz had mentioned living anywhere near Bremen. One person that would make her this nervous. "You can't mean the Comtesse d'Artois," Elsa spat out.

Fitz held up her hands defensively. "Charlotte can help. If there is anything that can be known about anyone, she knows it. She will have a lot of information about Ledsham, both the man and the place. I know she will."

It was true that the Comtesse had been Fitz's paramour, but that was in the past. And this was too important to worry about Elsa's jealous streak. Or at least Fitz hoped it was.

"Really, Carolina? We are not taking valuable time to visit some …"

Fitz cut her off, her improvised argument emerging as she began to explain. "It is less than a day's travel there. We will still easily beat any message coming from Arendelle to Ledsham. No matter how swiftly a boat that is not being powered by a snow queen travels, we would still arrive in the Highlands well before they would. We have time for this detour and more besides." She pleaded with Elsa. "It will be worth it. We need to know what the political situation is there before we go." Fitz punctuated her argument with precise gestures, placing each thought relative to the next, hoping that the rationality of organization would trump these messy feelings. "We need to know about the castle. We need to know about the people. We need as much information as we can get if the two of us, by ourselves, are going to invade, locate and rescue Anna and Kristoff."

"Damn it!" The queen swore as she realized Fitz was right and stomped her foot, covering the deck with a sheet of ice.

Fitz's feet flew out from under her, and she slipped and grabbed the wheel, still landing hard on the deck with a thump. That almost made Elsa feel better. Almost.

"Very well, but this had better be worth it."

 _ **Author's Note**_

My thanks as always to my beta, Grrlgeek72 who had to define _Fimbulwinter_ for me. (GG72: "You're a Frozen fan who doesn't know about Fimbulwinter?" Me: "WTF!?")

I am including "the Nerdy pledge" to finish this story in a reasonable length of time … reasonable subject to life events and work obligations. My Plan (tm) at this point is to publish a chapter every two weeks. Right now I'm mostly revising but I will get into sections where my carefully planned chapters degenerate into vague obscenity filled outlines that I will have to beat into a story. I work for reviews, comments, questions or stories about your childhood that you put in the space where a review should go. - love SSN


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

 _ **The country estate of the Graf von Bruener-Asparn, Prussia**_

The house was large, set off from the road with a long gravel driveway lined with trees and surrounded by verdant fields. At the apex of the driveway, where it circled back on itself, there was a fountain prominently featuring a marble cherub spewing water from fat lips. Cupid, Fitz thought glumly as she climbed out of the carriage feeling damp and disheveled. That was not how she wanted this meeting to start.

The house was more a Gallic manor house than the martial Austro-Hungarian castle native to the area. The lady of the house, Charlotte, Comtesse d'Artois, was from Gaul although her most recent husband was both Austrian and martial, the Graf von Breuner-Asparn , and the house was in Prussia. Theirs was both a morganic marriage and a marriage of convenience. Morganic kept the Empire safe from the peril of any foreign born woman holding a major title or lands. But since she had her own title and had amassed her own fortune this bothered Charlotte not at all. Indeed she ran their numerous estates and business holdings, the Graf reaped the benefit of her business acumen, and both were free to entertain as they wished — with reasonable discretion. It was only one's reputation that limited one's options. And Charlotte had never cared much about her reputation, a reputation that had followed her from her career on the stage, to her ill-fated first marriage and finally here to the hinterlands of Prussia. Ladies of rank and virtue never called on her, and so she was free of the tiresome burden of receiving and calling in return. She never had to waste an afternoon tittering over tea. She never felt the need to gossip or worry over fashion. She drank good brandy, set fashion and that was that.

Despite society's attempt to ostracize her, the Comtesse never suffered from lack of company. It was a rare evening indeed when her drawing room wasn't filled with men of wealth, rank, and influence. Fitz fondly remembered many long nights of cards, drinking only the best cognac, inhaling the piquant aroma of fine cigars, all while her purse grew heavier. Charlotte holding court over all of it until the sun rose. Older men respected her wisdom and frank assessments of business ventures. Young rakes were drawn by her reputation. Some, Fitz was sure, attracted her attention in a favorable manner, others — well, Fitz had discouraged more than one forward young man either with her fists or with her sword. One thing had always been true, it was a jolly time around the Comtesse d'Artois.

If Georg, the Comtesse's butler, recognized Fitz he gave no sign. Instead he left her standing outside the front door for a very uncomfortable length of time before he returned and ushered her in to the well-appointed house. The Comtesse d'Artois spared no expense where comfort was concerned, and her tastes adroitly walked the fine line between posh and garish. It was a style uniquely Charlotte's. Fitz took in the familiar furnishings with a glance before she hurried after Georg who was quick marching to a sitting room. She hoped her boots weren't muddying the Burbur rugs, but she thought it unlikely that she would be received warmly even if they weren't.

"Madam, Captain Fitzwilliam," Georg announced as he preceded Fitz through the door. The Comtesse was seated in a substantial black leather wing chair facing the door. She did not get up. The only sign that she was aware of Fitz's presence was when she raised her eyes slowly from the book she may or may not have been reading. One look at Charlotte's face told Fitz that her trepidation was spot on. The Comtesse was not pleased to see her. Her well-rehearsed entreaty died in her throat.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," the Comtesse said. Her tone was honey sweet; however, her expression was anything but. "Has the queen thrown you out already?"

Fitz answered reflexively. "Please, I — I'm sorry."

Charlotte arched an eyebrow and looked askance. "Sorry for what, exactly?"

Fitz frowned. "Sorry for — I 'm not really sure but — "

"You don't know what the problem is so you're just going to apologize. To placate me? To appease me? Do you really think I need appeasing?" Charlotte snorted and threw the book to the floor. "My god, Fitz, sometimes you're worse than any man I know."

"Well, I presumed," she stuttered. "You looked angry. I thought that you must be upset that I …" Fitz licked her lips nervously. "I have someone."

The Comtesse had looked annoyed before, now she was livid. Snatching her fan from a mahogany and stone end table, she got up from her chair and began a slow, dangerous advance on her former paramour. "You think what?" She whacked her fan into the palm of her hand for emphasis. "Listen here, you all-too-full of yourself cur. I don't need your apology, and I certainly don't NEED you. What I don't WANT, however, is for you to think you can waltz back here every time your love-life takes a turn for the worse. I am a generous woman, but I will not be used."

"Oh," Fitz sighed in relief, "Is that all?" She winced when the fan's next target was the side of her head.

"You tactless — you are the worst!" Charlotte whacked her again for good measure. "I had hoped this queen would have trained you better. Now tell me what you want, and it had better be important, before I throw you out to learn better manners. God save this queen."

"Charlotte. I wouldn't be here if it weren't important. And — and her Majesty is waiting in the carriage."

Charlotte's hand dropped from where it held her fan poised to strike again. She blinked as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. "Queen Elsa of Arendelle is here?"

"Yes, yes. In the carriage. We've both come. We need — "

"You left the Queen of Arendelle outside while you came in here to abuse my hospitality?" Charlotte scolded in disbelief. "Forget training, you're hopeless." Then she swept out of the drawing room, calling, "Georg, her Majesty the Queen of Arendelle is languishing in a carriage in our drive. Please bring the footmen and help her in. And let cook know we're having very special company for dinner."

Dumbfounded, Fitz followed behind the Comtesse, managing to duck the fan this time when it came back round again.

"You!" was all Charlotte added as she headed for the front door, a bevy of servants trailing in her wake.

"Wait, I need to tell you — " Fitz found her voice as they neared the carriage. She needed to warn Charlotte that their mode of travel had not been very regal. She would have never intentionally placed Elsa at such a disadvantage, especially to Charlotte, except that it couldn't be helped. They had arrived in Bremen wet and dirty from the small boat, and the carriage ride had done nothing to improve their appearance. It was Elsa that had refused to take the time to stop at an inn. Still Fitz regretted that the first time Charlotte would meet Elsa the latter would hardly look like the queen she was but rather some scrawny cabin-boy. "You should know that — "

She was cut off as Charlotte curtsied deeply and intoned, "Your Majesty. It is an honor that you would choose to visit my humble chateau."

When Fitz looked up, she was shocked. Instead of the angry, damp, disheveled Elsa she had left, she saw a beautifully coiffed queen garbed in a flowing gown of ice alight from the carriage, a serene, if tight, smile on her face. True, the dress was somewhat more revealing than her usual attire with a lower neckline and a higher slit on the side. But as always it sparkled magnificently, flowing behind the queen, pinpricks of sunlight bouncing off the crystals of thin ice, ice rather like the sort Fitz decided she was treading on with this plan of hers.

"What?" Elsa asked sharply at Fitz's gaping expression.

As long as she lived, Fitz would never quite understand women.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Your Excellency," Elsa answered with the barest nod in return to the Comtesse's greeting. "I am truly sorry we have to disturb you."

Charlotte took in the queen's tense demeanor and lined face. She was certain this Elsa was not pleased with the whole idea of her, or at least her former association with Fitz, but she hadn't actually expected to ever see the queen, especially in her own home. No one came this far simply to lay claim to their lover. It must be something else quite pressing if the queen came here – to her – unescorted except by Fitz. It would have to be a grave emergency.

"I gather this is a matter of some importance."

"It is." Elsa answered curtly. "But we will not be discussing my business in the courtyard."

"Of course. You are most welcome in my home. Let us move inside." Charlotte couldn't help a grin as she led the way. It seemed Fitz had found another woman who could take charge of a situation.

Charlotte led the little party back into her drawing room while her footmen searched the carriage in vain for luggage that wasn't there. She was pleased to see that Georg had the maids set out an early tea.

Elsa took in the extravagant furnishing and dramatic architectural features of the Comtesse's home as they were escorted inside. She also noted the woman herself. Not young, probably slightly older than Fitz, the Comtesse appeared well witted and, if Elsa was honest with herself, still quite beautiful. Her hair was a deep auburn, her eyes vibrant green, and she was apparently comfortable enough with herself to dress in whatever manner she pleased. Her dress was a green that matched her eyes, and far from the conservative style Elsa expected from Prussian society. It was a style Elsa recognized as typical for Gallic nobility. Overdone, or perhaps underdone if one was talking about quantity of fabric, but still this woman carried it off well. And she did look like someone who might send a lover a perfumed letter.

Elsa sat in the proffered wing chair, noting that the Comtesse waited for her to be seated before she took her own seat on a settee nearby. Fitz looked around for another chair and then made the wise decision to remain standing. Elsa couldn't quite make out this woman. She had expected her to be displeased to see them. This polite deference was not the reception she had prepared for. The woman seemed almost inviting. Elsa wasn't happy to be here, but if they did truly need this woman's help, then she was glad to see the Comtesse wasn't the fiance-eating harpy she had anticipated.

"Your Majesty, forgive me for being blunt. But what is it that I can do for you?" Charlotte asked once they were seated.

Elsa chewed her lip for a moment. She hated to say it. It only made the whole thing seem more real. "It's my sister – she is in trouble."

Fitz cut to the chase. "The Princess has been kidnapped. And we — "

Charlotte gasped and recoiled. "The Princess Anna? That adorable young woman with the delectable reindeer harvester husband?"

"Ice harvester," Fitz corrected.

"Yes, well, whatever." Charlotte waved Fitz off and leaned closer to Elsa. "That is horrible, your Majesty. What can I do? Oh my, that poor girl," she lamented.

Elsa blinked as the fullness of the circumstance became clear. "Wait, you know my sister?"

"Of course I know Princess Anna, Your Majesty. Everyone in Europe knows her — well, anyone who is anyone. I've seen her twice." Charlotte puffed herself up with the recitation of this fact. Her time with the Princess had made her the envy of all. "Once in Berlin and then again in Vienna. Oh, she is perfectly delightful. So sprightly, so cheerful — so refreshingly honest and sincere. Just the antidote to our doddering, stuffy Emperor and his badly aging court of vipers. I wanted to eat her up."

Fitz loudly cleared her throat only to be waved off again.

"But I didn't," Charlotte added. "And Prince Christopher -"

"Kristoff." Fitz corrected again.

"Of course, whatever," Charlotte snapped at Fitz, before turning back to Elsa with real concern coloring her tone. "Was he taken as well? He was quite a remarkable man. Not something you say about your average prince. I told her Highness she would be well advised to keep her reins on that particular deer." Shaking her head in concern, Charlotte gestured at Georg and suggested he should serve something stronger than tea — for their nerves. Then she turned back to Elsa. "You have my sympathy, my home, and any help I can give you if it will help you get those two delightful young people returned to you unharmed."

No, this was not what Elsa had expected at all.

 _ **Three months earlier - Berlin**_

The court at Berlin was not the Imperial court, and for that Charlotte was grateful. Yes, it was quintessentially Allman, rigid and cold, but yet since no one was particularly in charge, easy to manipulate. She didn't deceive herself, this lack of order was the only reason she had managed to get anywhere close to the couple whom everyone wanted to meet: the Princess and Prince of Arendelle.

She tried to pretend that her motives were different from everyone else in the hall. They wanted to meet the sister of the woman who could magically control snow and ice, as if some of that magic might rub off on them in a once removed sort of way.

Charlotte also wanted to meet this Princess Anna because of her sister, but it had nothing to do with snow and ice. No, Charlotte wanted to know more about this woman who seemed to have also magically ensnared a dear friend, Captain Fitzwilliam.

True, Fitz was more than a dear friend, but whatever her skills in the bedroom it was her adorable, earnest, if oh-so-obsessive and naive devotion to honor and loyalty that Charlotte truly loved. Fitz was the one person who Charlotte felt she could entrust any with detail of her life no matter how unseemly — and she had told her many such details — making Fitz a cherished confidant and truly her best friend. Plus it was so fun to make her blush, or stammer in embarrassment, or squeak out a shocked, "Charlotte!"

The receiving line to see the Princess and Prince of Arendelle was a typical Allman mess. A bevy of princelings, dukes and other nobility watching anxiously while their lords or ladies in waiting argued for their position in the receiving line.

The happy couple, for the Arendellian royalty were on a continental tour immediately following their wedding, stood uncomfortably at the entrance to the main hall, the Princess bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet, waiting to hear what they were supposed to do next.

Fortunately Charlotte felt no need for the formality of a receiving line. She swooped over to where the Princess and Prince stood, waving off the small contingent of guards she supposed were from Arendelle with a wiggle of her fingers. Happily they obeyed her commands, receiving nothing to contradict them from the royalty they were protecting. Charlotte imagined they found her unthreatening, certainly there was no place to conceal a weapon in this dress.

"Your Highness, may I be so impertinent as to introduce myself." Charlotte didn't wait for an answer from the startled couple. She dipped a gracious courtesy and said, "I am Charlotte Felicite, the Comtesse d'Artois."

"Oh," Anna answered. "Hi."

Charlotte was caught by surprise by that introduction, and she had thought she was too jaded to be surprised by anything anymore until the young princess managed it with such a simple greeting. "Hi," she replied back, her courtier instincts leading her to imitate the little wave the Princess gave her. Perhaps that was how they did things in Arendelle.

"Hi," The Prince continued the odd ritual. "We're Anna — well she's Anna — and I'm Kristoff. She's the Princess of Arendelle and I'm —" he hesitated and took a deep breath, "The Prince of Arendelle, but really just an ice harvester. It's great to meet you." Then he smiled as if he had accomplished something very difficult.

The Princess patted him on the arm before asking,"Do you have any idea when they're going to get this show on the road? I mean everyone's been real nice, but we've been standing here for a while, and you know — it would be super to sit down or something."

"Yeah, these boots are really —" The Prince was cut off suddenly when the Princess's elbow found its way into his ribs.

Charlotte's eyes grew wide with astonishment and then a smile curled on her lips. What delightfully real people, and with their own charming naïveté. Innocents abroad indeed.

"I am so sorry, Your Highnesses, I'm afraid I have no idea how long it will take them to get the receiving line in order." Charlotte glanced over her shoulder to where the machinations of determining precedence amongst such a motley collection of nobility were not going to end anytime soon. "But you know there is a salon just off that hall to the right." Charlotte prided herself on being prepared for all eventualities, and in this case she had taken the time to familiarize herself with both the attendees of today's event and the castle in which it was being held. "If I could be so bold as to suggest you might wait there in comfort, and one of your people," she gestured at the guards, "could come and get you when the receiving line is ready. I'd be happy to escort you to the salon, myself."

"Um," Anna looked out over the hall. She knew what Elsa would do. Elsa would have no problem waiting forever. Elsa would stay patiently right here until everything was sorted out. She wouldn't even fidget. "I don't know if we should …"

"And may I tell you, I am sure that I can get tea for you while you wait. I saw some delightful chocolate cake being prepared for the ball, but surely you might have a slice or two before then. I wouldn't want you to faint from hunger."

"Chocolate?" Anna licked her lips. "We haven't eaten in hours."

Prepared also meant that Charlotte had studied her Highness and knew that chocolate was the way to Anna of Arendelle's heart.

"Where are they … Oh, my heavens, not her," said a tall blond-haired lady whose dress was so large it threatened to take out every side-table she passed. She was one of the Austrian Empress's courtiers, the one who had taken it as her solemn duty to escort Anna everywhere, even places Anna hadn't needed escorting to since she was three. Now she had suddenly noticed that her charges had fallen out of her control and into the orbit of infamy itself.

"How could SHE even have the nerve!" said her companion. Where there was one courtier there was always two.

"Nerve has never been something she's been lacking, but I'm putting a stop to this right this instant."

Anna's shadow-escort raced as fast as she was able to rescue the Arendelle royalty, and was pulled up short when Anna held up a hand for her to stop before she and Kristoff were bowled over.

"What's going on?" Anna asked.

"That woman! You can't be seen with her."

"Um, why not?" Anna hadn't really cared who she met, but this was the first interesting thing that had happened today, and chocolate cake had been promised.

"She's not even Austrian. She's a Gallic Countess."

"Arendelle's not at war with Gaul," Anna shrugged, gesturing at Charlotte to continue escorting them to tea.

"But she's … she's," the woman dropped her voice to a whisper. "She's notorious."

"Oh." Anna thought about that. "Notorious? It's not contagious is it?"

The two courtiers stared in shock. "Well, not to someone of ..."

"Great, then I'm really excited to talk to her. I've always wanted to meet someone notorious. It sounds so — so interesting."

The courtiers glanced at each other in bewildered silence wondering what they should do now. But Charlotte recognized her chance and grabbed both the Princess and Prince by their elbows and guided them down the hall.

"So you're?" Kristoff asked as she pushed them through a door into a very comfortable looking salon.

Charlotte answered, "notorious" just as Anna said, "interesting." The Comtesse laughed. Then she spoke to the footman at the door.

"Their Highnesses are feeling a bit peaked. Could you have someone bring …" she turned back to Anna, "tea or champagne?"

Anna wiggled with excitement, "Both?"

"Have someone bring tea, some of your finest chocolate cake, and of course champagne, several bottles if you would."

The footman bowed and left to get the tea, cake and champagne.

 _ **Charlotte's estate - the dining room**_

Fitz took a deep inhale and let the cognac fumes fill her senses as she leaned back in her chair to sip. Charlotte's hospitality was unmatched. The dinner had been superb. Wearing clean, dry clothing after a bath was matchless.

At tea, Charlotte had suggested they reserve any further conversation until after they had rested, bathed, and dined. Elsa had initially resisted, but finally the exhaustion of forty-eight hours without sleep coupled with the emotional turmoil had bested her and she agreed.

Now they were in the dining room after dinner, doors locked and privacy assured, well-fed and better rested than this afternoon.

"So how, exactly, may I help you recover your sister and the Prince, Your Majesty?" Charlotte asked. She too had a decent snifter of cognac, although her display of appreciation was somewhat more subtle that Fitz's.

"I don't precisely know. This wasn't my idea. Coming here." She looked at Fitz. "But I believe we need information. For which I can pay you." Elsa wasn't drinking, which was probably for the best. She hadn't exactly slept before dinner, although she had finally given up pacing.

"Pay me?" Something about Charlotte's tone had Fitz sputtering in her drink as she sat up rapidly. "No, it is not necessary to pay me. I thought I made it clear, I too wish the Princess returned to you safely."

Fitz cut in before Elsa could reply. "The information we're looking for is about the Ledsham estate, the Duke of Ledsham's estate in the Highlands. He's the one who has taken Anna and Kristoff, and I was hoping you might be able to give us the particulars of where he might possibly hiding them."

"The Duke of …" Charlotte looked incredulous. "He's dead."

"Not that Duke," Fitz replied. "His heir. He blames me for his father's misfortune and wants to trade Anna and Kristoff for me."

"How very odd." Charlotte shook her head. "Although it does explain why there was no demand for ransom. In my experience, kidnapping ends in a hefty ransom and nothing more. After all there is no good reason to bring the wrath of the entire aristocracy on your head, but ransom is an old practice. It used to be considered something of a status symbol."

"The ransom request was for Captain Fitzwilliam's head." After a moment Elsa added, "which was not on offer."

"I would think not," Charlotte muttered, tapping her fingers rapidly on her lips, which seemed to help her think. "But it is still strange. The Duke's heir is young, just a boy really. He can't be more than fourteen or fifteen."

"A boy?" Elsa and Fitz looked at each other.

"But," Charlotte continued, "I can tell you where he is likely to be keeping them. The old Duke hadn't many properties left. He was an idiot, and he came from a long line of idiots who squandered their fortune. It was a wonder he hadn't been executed or just plain murdered for gambling debts long ago."

"At least it seems like we're talking about the same Duke," Elsa agreed.

"His main holding, an old drafty castle of the worst type, was on the sea in the southwest. The harbor would provide easy access, and the castle itself is large enough that no one would notice if your sister and her husband were being held there. So," Charlotte looked to Fitz, "what is your plan?"

"Well …" Fitz took another large sip of her brandy. "Well,you see. It's not that haven't considered the possibilities, but without further information..."

"You don't have one, do you?" Charlotte closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her hand.

Fitz answered indignantly,"We do, perhaps not a plan per se', but if I knew what sort of force we were facing then I would be able -"

Charlotte let out a rueful chuckle and shook her head ."Fitz, as brilliant as your tactical mind is, there are still only two of you. I don't think the size of the opposing force will matter that much."

A chill wind blew through the dining room punctuating Elsa's answer. "That's why I'm here."

Charlotte moved her gaze to the Queen and nodded slowly. "Yes, Your Majesty, I know of your ice magic. Everyone in Europe with ears knows about your ice magic, but I have some sense of the true extent of its usefulness after my time with your sister." Elsa stiffened. Fitz felt the tension in the room ratchet higher, and it got colder, but Charlotte continued as if she didn't notice. "And as impressive as it may be, I still think that stealth is your best option. An attack, no matter how swift and extensive, could result in their highnesses' untimely demise."

"I have considered that." Elsa spoke with deliberation, and her attention entirely on the Comtesse. The two women locked eyes. Fitz tried to intercede.

"Her Majesty has thought this through."

But Elsa waved her off. "However,I don't have any other ideas."

Charlotte smiled. "I do."

####

"No. Absolutely not."

"I'll do it."

"Elsa can't do that. She's the Queen of Arendelle."

"I'll do it."

"She's not just some woman you can make the butt of this sick joke of yours."

"I said, I'll do it."

"You really should listen to your beloved," the Comtesse said to Fitz with a smirk. "Your obstinance gets tiresome after a while."

When Charlotte had revealed her plan of having Elsa and Fitz accompany her as her servants on a condolence visit to the Ledsham estate, Fitz had been skeptical. When she had added that Elsa would have to dye her trademark hair as it was as recognizable as her ice magic, Fitz was livid.

But as much as Elsa was inclined to agree with the Comtesse that this was a decent plan and that Fitz was overreacting, she really wasn't planning to let her know it. She wouldn't give the woman that satisfaction. "If you would give us a moment, your Excellency? Alone?"

"Of course, your Majesty," Charlotte demurred. "I will be making arrangements with Georg. Of all of my staff, I trust him completely, and we will need his help. Do let me know what decision you come to?" With a courtesy, Charlotte glided from the room.

"I am so sorry I brought you here," Fitz apologized. "This was a poor idea."

"No, don't be sorry. She's right, and it's a good plan, or at least a better plan that blasting our way through a castle hoping we don't kill Anna and Kristoff."

"But — but you — you can't be a servant — and your hair?"

Elsa felt something that was almost a laugh rise through her tears. Dear, sweet Carolina, of all the things to fixate on. She pulled her in for a kiss, wrapping her arms around her strong back and relishing the warmth and stability she felt there. "My hair will be fine. I was supposed to be a brunette anyway, or at least that's what Mama said. And it's for Anna, it's for Anna and Kristoff. I was prepared to die for them and drag you down with me. Really I think a little change of hair color is getting off easy."

"It's not a little change." Fitz frowned, annoyed that Elsa didn't understand and equally annoyed at herself that she had almost forgotten about Anna and Kristoff. "And you don't know the first thing about being a servant."

"No, I don't, and that's a risk, but that won't be the hardest thing. I will also have to wear gloves again, if I'm to properly control my powers and not give us away. I hate gloves, and I hate the fight to hide who I am that they represent, but I'll do it to get Anna back. I will do anything to get Anna back.

"Anything except the sensible thing - turn me over to him," Fitz muttered, exasperation clear in her voice.

There was something about that statement matched against Carolina's petulant pout that was very endearing and very compelling.

Elsa ran her thumb along Carolina's cheek. "I'll go tell the Comtesse that we accept her plan, and you, if you please, might go back to our room. I'll need you there. We can work on my internal fortitude to prepare for a change of hair color."

"Internal fortitude?" Fitz was confused.

"Just wait for me, please?" Elsa kissed her on the forehead before she got up to go find the Comtesse d'Artois.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

 _ **Charlotte's estate - her office**_

"Your Excellency." Elsa knocked once on the door-frame.

Charlotte looked up and saw the queen and then quickly shooed her butler away. The Comtesse was behind a great walnut desk with a library of ledgers shelved neatly behind her. There was a fire in the grate, for even in late summer Austria cooled in the evening, and warm rugs covered the floor.

"Call me Charlotte, please." The Comtesse stood and then offered Elsa the chair in front of her desk with a gesture.

"No, thank you," Elsa demurred. She had no idea how to phrase that politely, but she did not consider herself on a first name basis with the Comtesse. "I've just come to tell you that I agree to your plan." She remained in the doorway.

"Well then — good." Charlotte frowned, but then plunged on with no apparent concern. "I had begun the preparations hoping you would. I believe we can get both of you ready tomorrow morning and leave in the evening, perhaps even the late afternoon."

That idea pleased Elsa. As much as she now realized that coming here was necessary, she was still eager to keep moving. The thought of Anna in pain or peril or worse came to her every time she was still. She was afraid to sleep, afraid both of her dreams and of the idea that while she was asleep the worst would happen. It wasn't logical, but she felt that if she was awake, then Anna could be just around the corner or through the next door. As long as she was thinking of her, Anna would be safe.

Charlotte cut through the queen's reverie, "But still, I do think we need to clear the air between us. Please do stay, if only for a bit longer." The Comtesse leaned over and ducked behind her desk. Elsa heard a cabinet open. Two crystal brandy glasses appeared on the desktop followed by a matching decanter.

"Would you like a cognac? I also have sherry or port."

Elsa sensed the command behind the polite request, but she was in this woman's debt. "Cognac would be fine," she answered. Then she perched on the front of a well-padded parlor chair that faced Charlotte's desk.

As Charlotte poured the brandy, Elsa took in the room. Clearly this was the Comtesse's office, and Elsa noticed how much it resembled her own. The collection of books. The wide expanse of desk needed to hold the volume of paperwork she handled. A wide expanse that Carolina had used — Elsa pushed that thought quickly from her mind with iron discipline. It would do no good to wonder about those things here. And, she reminded herself fiercely, Carolina was waiting for her in a nearby bedroom.

Elsa also noticed, with some surprise, how small and subordinate she felt on this side of the desk, an introspection that had not previously occurred to her. This was not how she wanted to make her subjects feel, and she resolved to not put the people she dealt with in the same situation again. Carolina always complained that she used the desk to keep people away, to keep them distant. Suddenly Elsa realized that she might be right.

"I wanted to thank you for the flowers," Charlotte said lightly as she offered Elsa a full glass. "They were the most ingenious — and pointed — message I've ever gotten. I laughed, well I laughed once I finished breaking things."

Elsa blushed. She had sent the Comtesse a gift of a dried rose and crocus intertwined with one another after the Comtesse had invited Carolina, with a perfumed letter, to come stay with her while in exile from Avalon. Elsa though now that her reaction had been jealous and childish. "I'm sorry …."

"Please don't apologize. Mostly I was upset that I had never thought of anything that clever myself." Charlotte poured herself a glass of cognac and took her seat. "It convinced me that you certainly had some wit and perhaps a little fire as well. I was happy I didn't have to rescue Fitz from a simpering recluse, at least not an unimaginative, simpering recluse."

Elsa winced at the word 'recluse.' "I wasn't exactly …

But Charlotte didn't allow her to finish her sentence, "Your Majesty, how do you think I afford all of this?" Charlotte gestured vaguely at her grand manor.

It took Elsa a moment to gather her thoughts for a response. Arendelle didn't have this style of home, no one in Elsa's kingdom could support one, except of course the Crown. It wasn't a palace, or even a castle, many of which still graced the Austrian countryside. It was more along the style of the grand country manor homes of Gaul or Avalon, the great houses Elsa had seen in books, and those were equally expensive to maintain as any palace. Elsa imagined there were several dozen servants living in the house, all needed to be fed and paid. Also, a large manor such as this required an equally large quantity of capital for upkeep, even if no one ever froze the walls or the roof. Riding in she had seen farmland and grazing pastures that were all more rich than those in Arendelle. These no doubt belonged to the house and would help with the overhead, but no one ran a house such as this on its own income.

"I could only guess." Elsa gave the only respectable answer that came to her. "Your — your marriage?"

"Oh no," Charlotte laughed. "He's as worthless at business as he is at — well, many things. No, I support this manor and several more like it. I have substantial investments that I have managed to acquire, and they provide for my lifestyle."

"Oh." What was the Comtesse getting at, Elsa wondered. She was tired, and this has been a long day.

"You were certainly polite not to say what you were thinking," Charlotte added with a sly smile. "Because yes, I have been a courtesan. Perhaps not formally, but I have exchanged myself more than once for money or security."

Elsa found herself furiously blushing.

If Charlotte was offended, she didn't show it. Instead she continued on with the story of her life her tone one of fond acceptance — of someone who wasn't ashamed of what they had done.

"I was a daughter of a middle class family with no prospects better than the village butcher. Fortunately I was born beautiful and with a flair for drama. Even more fortunately I was born smart and with an ambition to be more than what my birth would allow. I became an actress, an accomplished one, and from there moved up in society man by man. My first husband was the Comte d'Artois. He was real titled nobility, but unfortunately with an addiction to cards and a complete lack of skill in playing them. He died in a duel over debts. He left me with no home, no lands, no money, but with a title. I have purveyed that beginning into this." Charlotte rotated her hand lazily.

"Um, well done." Elsa was unsure exactly what the woman intended with this confessional.

"My point," Charlotte continued as if she could read Elsa's mind, "is that I have known hardship, and I know a lot about the world."

"Yes."

"And that you have known neither."

Elsa was startled by that assertion and was about to respond in her own defense, although she knew it was probably true. But Charlotte continued without a breath.

"Not that you had a good life as a child, I know that. In fact," Charlotte said, nodding in sympathy. "I cannot even begin to imagine what it was like for you when you were growing up. I can think of nothing more terrible, to be locked up alone, to be afraid of yourself. To endure that must have taken great strength of character."

It was the last straw. "I do not know why you have decided to take these liberties," Elsa snapped. "But you do not know me. You have no idea who I am or what my life was like. And I will thank you to refrain from conjecture about it."

"I have heard your sister's stories."

Elsa felt an overwhelming need to prove this woman wrong, to assert how little the Comtesse knew about her. "Myths from the other side of the door I assure you. Stories not facts. Not the fact that I hurt her; not the fact that because I couldn't control my powers I continued to hurt her even past the point when she saved my life."

"You are correct, those were not the stories I heard, but I'm not convinced the ones your sister told me aren't true."Charlotte's smile never wavered."We did spend quite some time together, your sister is quite talkative, and her favorite — almost exclusive — topic of conversation, well, real conversation that isn't some rote recital of Arendelle's tradeable goods, is you."

"She promised me she would stick to trade."

Charlotte shrugged. "And with everyone else she did."

"You manipulated her." Elsa stated flatly, subduing her building outrage.

"Of course."

 _ **The Imperial Court of the Austrian Empire - 2 months ago**_

"Kristoff? But we're married? Everyone knows that." Anna laughed and shook her head. She and the Comtesse d'Artois were seated on a balcony surrounding the dance floor. Below them dozens of couples whirled in the traditional dance style of Austria. Everyone was dressed in their finest, the women in ball gowns, the men almost all in formal uniforms festooned with enormous medals. To Anna it seemed that the Empire was one big hero factory, which was really odd since they had lost the war.

"Don't think that marriage alone will protect your handsome Prince, your highness," Charlotte responded. "Although everyone can see how much in love with you he is, and that is probably your best defense against the unseemly."

Anna just snorted and scooted her chair closer. She had been warned against being seen with this Countess, but that had only piqued her desire to sit down and really talk with the woman. Sure, Charlotte d' Artois might be a little shocking and maybe even – she greatly hoped - dangerous. But Anna had learned that if you listened to everyone's warnings – her parents', her sister's, and now every member of the royalty of the continent and their major domo, you would never get to do anything fun or meet interesting people. And no matter what her reputation this Countess was certainly interesting.

For one, she dressed as if she spread scandal in her wake. Anna wore off-the-shoulder fashions, but her dresses had been designed to bare her shoulders and neck and little else. Charlotte's dresses, and Anna liked a woman who insisted you call her by her first name, exposed a shocking amount of decolletage. Anna wondered if she used glue or something — maybe the source of her notoriety had been her unmentionables popping free — maybe she had actually put out someone's eye.

"Are you enjoying your champagne, Your Highness?" Charlotte asked.

"Yes, it's so boobly, I mean bubbly," Anna quickly corrected. "And can't you call me Anna? I've asked you to."

"No, as much as I might like to I cannot," Charlotte waved down a footman carrying the champagne bottle and directed him to Anna's glass. "Protocol and all. I mean if we were at my country house, well then, that's one thing, but court is quite another."

"You have a country house?" Anna asked.

"Several my dear, several. And the one in Austria is so delightful in the spring. You'd love it. In fact, you should come. You and the Prince — even the Queen if she wished."

"Well, I think it sounds like fun, but I dunno. Kristoff's been so great during this trip, but I can tell he's not a big traveler. And my sister, well she would never leave Arendelle, I mean even if she could she probably wouldn't. She's just not one for ummm — people, I mean people that she doesn't know, of course. She's fine with me, well now — and Kristoff — and Fitz. She's awesome with the snowmen, even the little snowgies, and they drive me nuts. They're just like children. If children were cute, evil, cake-eating imps about ten inches tall."

Charlotte took that all in, mostly that Fitz was 'Fitz' and not 'Captain Fitzwilliam.'

"I guess it must be difficult for your sister, the queen, to have close friends, with her spending so much time out of the public eye."

"Well that's one way to put it," Anna snorted. "I think of it more like locked up in her room alone for thirteen years. She just disappeared one day, and I never saw her again until her coronation. I don't know everything about it, but from what she's said it was really hard. Staying in there trying to control her powers without any help, always afraid she hurt someone — that she'd hurt me. But wait, how did you know that?"

Charlotte deftly deflected the question. "All of the continent knows of the Queen of Arendelle now. When those Ambassadors came back with their stories not everyone believed, but some of us did. And of course everyone who was anyone wondered why neither of you had come out at the proper time."

"Come out? Like out of the castle? There's a proper time?" Anna wrinkled her brown in concern. "Everyone isn't hidden away in castles are they?"

"I meant, made your debut."

"My day who?" Anna asked.

"Officially being introduced to society? With a party — a big ball — to meet the rest of the aristocracy."

"Oh? People do that?" Anna was amazed by the all the things she never knew she didn't know. "I mean how do people do that? I'm asking because I wasn't introduced to everyone in Arendelle let alone the world. And yeah, there was part of the world that basically came to Arendelle when Elsa was crowned. And I guess there were introductions." Anna's face scrunched into a sour expression. "One to the biggest jerk ever, ummm — two big jerks, well one small beady-eyed jerk and one big sort of handsome if you were into that sort of thing jerk — and later — Elsa did come out in sort of a big way, if you know what I mean."

"I could make a guess," Charlotte answered, her face a picture of affirming understanding.

"Yeah 'blizzard in July' time. Some people call it Eternal Winter, but that makes Elsa uncomfortable. I mean she never meant to freeze the whole country, not even for a day let alone eternity. She didn't mean any of it, but you know," Anna leaned in and lowered her voice. "I'm glad it happened. All the best things happened because of that day. Those days. Anyhow, Elsa came out of her room and stayed out — mostly. And Elsa and I are really good friends now. And the eternal winter thing is how I met Kristoff, which you know turned out alright. Really, really, really alright." Anna felt a warm wave tingle its way up from her toes as she thought about Kristoff.

Charlotte chuckled, "Oh, Your Highness you are such a breath of fresh air. Almost too charming to be real."

"Uh, thank you? I guess?"

"It's a compliment, trust me," Charlotte said with a conspiratorial wink

And she did mean it as a compliment. As much as court intrigue was a game Charlotte could play as well as anyone, that didn't mean she enjoyed doing so. What she found herself, somewhat surprisingly, enjoying was speaking with this delightfully candid woman who was still young enough to be amazed by the world. She almost felt guilty about her ulterior motivations, but 'almost guilty' was not enough to make her stop.

"You know I have become fascinated with the news that comes out of Arendelle. It is so interesting. I even heard that your Navy destroyed an Avalonian ship of the line."

"Oh, that wasn't our Navy. Our Navy is a little on the small side. Fitz complains we don't have any real ships. But no, that was my sister Elsa. Not to worry, she was really mad, she wouldn't do that to just anyone, She's really careful about using her powers. She doesn't want to scare anyone, but Avalon deserved it, especially after what they did to Fitz …"

 _ **Charlotte's estate - her office**_

"You manipulated her." Elsa stated flatly, subduing her building outrage, fighting the magic that ached to be released. Already she felt the tell-tale touch of a single snowflake drifting on to her arm.

"Of course," Charlotte replied. "But not out of any ill-will. I certainly never shared any of what she told me. However, I admit I was curious, and I am good at sating my curiosity."

The bald-faced admission took Elsa by surprise. Even more surprising was Charlotte's next question that cut through the lingering silence.

"But now — well — aren't you the slightest bit curious about the Fitz I knew?"

Elsa replied with a peevish, "I presumed we knew the same one."

"Oh, no." Charlotte's smile never wavered. "You should really have her tell you the stories."

The look that Elsa gave her set Charlotte to laughing. "No, not _those_ stories. Her exploits. Her _military_ exploits. Her daring triumphs against Avalon's enemies, Gaul and even a few pirates," she said waving the flurry of snowflakes from her face. "Didn't it ever prick your curiosity? A low-born woman commanding one of Avalon's best ships. Someone well thought of enough that she was sent on a highly important mission to your kingdom. A woman who was never short of men willing to fight and die, for King and Country true, but in the end really for her."

"I have never been curious to think about how Fitz might have died."

"Oh but, the stories are wonderful, especially since she's still here with us." Charlotte refilled her own glass and leaned over her desk to offer more to Elsa, who declined. When she sat again, she held up the cognac and looked into the warm amber liquid. Her voice turned reflective. "I do think you should know that Fitz is the most lion-hearted person I have ever met and not just in battle. I've seen her lose a thousand pounds at cards without so much as a blink. I've seen her walk into a duel as if she were going into the dining room. There were times I was terrified for her life, and there she was chatting with her second calmer than she would with any banker."

Elsa shifted uncomfortably. The thought of Carolina dueling was bad enough, the picture of this woman waiting at her side — "Please, I think we've discussed more than I want …"

"If you would let me finish." Again it was a command, and to her own surprise Elsa obeyed.

"Some people think that she was utterly fearless, but really I think it was the fear she was looking for. She needed that excitement. She needed it to make her feel her life was worth something. She had learned from the world that as an illegitimate woman who wouldn't or couldn't assume the womanly role it expected from her that her life was — less. Oh, she was careful never to say it out loud. I'm not even sure she allowed herself to think it. But certainly she treated her life as something that could be traded for the things she hadn't been born with: status, money, and most importantly, honor."

"What is your point?" Elsa asked, well past exasperation.

"You've won."

"Excuse me?"

"Fitz came here looking for a plan." Charlotte said this as if it were an obvious answer. "I have never heard the word 'plan' cross her lips before. She prided herself on thinking on her feet. That resourcefulness, the gift of improvisation under fire, it was part of what made her such a great Captain, and she was inordinately proud of it. But now I see a woman who is more cautious, more thoughtful. Who is actually," Charlotte paused for emphasis, "worried. Something has changed, my dear. Something has made the reckless woman I knew change into a — relatively — careful woman who is looking before she is leaping. And I dare say what caused this change is you. You alone have tamed the beast. So," Charlotte lifted her glass, "let me say 'brava.' You've won. You've beaten all of us." She emphasized each word that followed. "All of us. Now I am asking you to be a gracious winner and stop glaring at me."

Charlotte stood and walked around her desk. She stopped in front of Elsa and then went to one knee with surprising grace. She held out her hands. Elsa reflexively retreated, pushing back into the furthest reaches of her chair. Snow began to fall in room in earnest. Charlotte ignored the warning signs and plowed through, putting one hand on Elsa's arm before speaking.

"Please. Trust me. Trust me so I can help you. We will not succeed if we cannot trust each other, not even with my cunning, Fitz's bravery, and your strength. We will have to be united if this plan we've concocted is to work and your sister and her husband are to make it safely home. Do you think you can put aside whatever you've thought about me and trust me?"

Elsa took an audible breath and considered everything of the last two days. She was frightened. She was angry. There was more than a dusting of snow on the desk. Ice covered her chair and was threatening to creep out across the floor. It infuriated her. This all infuriated her, but she also realized that this woman was right, at least about this. Right here, right now, she would have to trust the Comtesse d'Artois. With a will born of painful practice Elsa pulled the ice and snow and her emotions back into herself. For the moment.

"Yes,"she answered. "To get Anna back, I would do anything."

 _ **Charlotte's estate - the drawing room - much later that evening**_

The fire was only coals now as the last of the big logs slowly crumpled in on itself, and Fitz could feel the chill from the room seeping through the back of the big wing chair. The house was dark, the servants had all gone to bed, and the only light in the drawing room came from the fire, which was why Fitz was surprised when she heard Charlotte's voice.

"I must say, I didn't expect to see you in here at this hour."

Fitz started, and then let out a hiss of pain as a bright light flared on. She turned her head away and grimaced, asking, "What is that?"

"Gas. A gas lamp." Charlotte turned down the flame so that the room was bathed in a more subdued light. "Soon you'll find it in every home. But now it's considered modern and dangerous – so it suits me." She walked to the chair adjacent to Fitz's and took her seat. "I've made some substantial investments in gas. If you wanted to become independently wealthy, I could suggest some to you as well."

Fitz shook her head silently.

"Yes, then I guess you're not haunting my halls in the dead of night looking for business advice. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong."

Charlotte cocked an eyebrow. "Nothing?"

Fitz sighed and looked down at her boots. There were things she would not share with Charlotte. Certainly she wouldn't share what had driven her out here to think.

Elsa had returned to the room they had been settled in with waves of cold literally spiraling off her. Fitz, of course, had tried to comfort her. Gentle kissed and warm hugs intended to make her feel safe and loved. But Elsa had quickly escalated hugs and cuddles into something else entirely. Not that Fitz minded, but the fierceness with which Elsa demanded intimacy was not her usual practice, and her intensity, while not unknown, didn't fit what Fitz had expected. Elsa hadn't wanted to stop — not even slow down — not until she finally fell back exhausted, and passed out in Fitz' arms. No, those things she would not share, but Fitz felt she needed advice. There had to be more she could do, a way to help Elsa that she just couldn't think of because she was so inept with feelings and what not.

"Elsa's not herself. You don't know her, but she's usually steady as a rock, but now — I hardly know what to do. She's frantic. She's angry – at the people who took her sister of course, but also the whole world – at me. Then she's crying, which I understand. Then in a second she's – well different."

Charlotte let out a short airy chuckle. "She did storm out of my office in a bit of a mood earlier. I'm afraid I might have pressed on a sore point or two." She settled herself deeper into the chair and sighed. "I presume you were successful in comforting her."

Even Fitz couldn't miss the innuendo. "Charlotte, don't be – don't be you."

"Darling, please. You shouldn't get cross with me just because you don't have the slightest idea of what your lover ..."

Fitz blurted out: "Fiance."

Again Charlotte lifted an eyebrow, her tone nearly as arch. "Affianced, are we? Well, that is one marriage I insist I be invited to. I guess they are more permissive in those tiny cold countries, aren't they?

"Charlotte!" Fitz snapped. "This is not easy for me."

"Millicent!" Charlotte answered back, her tone even sharper. "Do you think this is for me?"

After a long moment Fitz replied with a sigh, "No. God, of course not." She scrubbed a hand through her hair and said, "And this was not how I had planned on seeing you again."

"I didn't think you ever planned on seeing me again. Was I wrong?"

Fitz hung her head, "No." Then she continued, "God, I am useless."

"I was thinking tactless, tactless and awful, but I'll take that small bit of self-reflection."

Fitz brought her head up only to bang it into the plush leather-covered chair back. With a soft whimper she closed her eyes. Charlotte seemed moved by her misery.

"Of course you don't know what's going on, Fitz. She's a young woman, a very young woman to have such responsibility, and her world has been shaken badly."

Fitz's eyes shot open, and she leaned forward — pleading. "But what do I do? I give her advice. I try to reassure her. She just gets angry at me. I'm doing my best to fix this."

"This is something not easily fixed." Charlotte's tone was sharp and serious.

"Yes, but …"

"It is my observation that most women don't need someone to fix their problems for them. They are quite capable of doing it for themselves. I don't think she is any exception, not to mention that your queen is actually your Ace in the hole. She's far more powerful than either you or I. More powerful, I think, than she truly realizes. She's right in that she is the best person to deal with this situation, although I rather wish it were through the payment of a fat ransom – ransom is so much easier and neater than rescuing."

"Arendelle doesn't …"

"I know, I know. There are ridiculous places where they seem to ignore expedience for — honor — or some such thing. But as I was saying, she doesn't need you for solving her problems. Not even for your talent with a sword when it comes right down to it. What she needs you for is support, to simply be there for her."

Fitz's head fell back into her hands. "I am miserable at that."

"Yes, darling, I know. But you do seem to be getting better."

"I'm not helping her. She's still flying off the handle. She's still — upset."

Charlotte sighed. "Fitz. Let me explain this again for you. I shall use small words."

"Not funny."

"You cannot stop her from being angry. She has every right to be angry. You cannot stop her from being upset. She has every right to be upset. What you can do is stay with her and offer your strength to her even when she is upset, or angry, or angry at you, or weeping like a madwoman. It's not what you do; it's that you're there."

"Really?" Fitz snorted. "That sounds so – ineffective."

"Hardly. Trust me in this. You are doing well enough as it is – and if you get yourself back into bed with her – where you belong – then you might continue doing well enough."

Fitz stared back into the embers of the fire. At long last she muttered, "I couldn't find the good whiskey."

"I had Georg put it away someplace where it would be safe."

"Humph," Fitz grumbled. Then she stood and bowed. "So it seems I must retire for the evening, my lady. If you would permit me?"

"Of course, Captain." Charlotte returned her bow with a short nod of her head. Then as Fitz reached the doorway she added, "You are doing fine, darling. Chin up."

Fitz turned, a tiny wistful smile darting across her lips, "Thank you, Charlotte."


	5. Chapter 4b

**_A/N: This really should have been the last part of the previous chapter. Pretend it is there._**

The next morning had been a busy one. A maid had delivered a plain dress and accessories earlier that morning, and Charlotte herself had come to supervise when Elsa's hair was dyed. No one, not even Elsa herself, knew how long her magic would take to revert her hair to it's usual color, but for now it was an even dark brown.

At last the furor died down. Alone, Elsa sat at the mirror staring at the woman in front of her. That face achingly familiar and not truly hers had emerged from the haze of memory, its vivid likeness giving her a shock. Shock faded to resignation and then sadness and guilt. She reached forward to reassure herself that the image before her was just a reflection in glass. It could not offer her any comfort.

The door opened. Elsa turned, her annoyance at the interruption apparent in every sharp word. "Excuse me, sir. I did not invite you to enter."

To her continued annoyance and consternation the man just laughed, a long deep throated laugh, that as it continued became startlingly familiar.

"Fitz?"

"Aye, luv," the man responded as he walked closer. "The same."

"Wow," Elsa marveled at the site in front of her. Fitz seemed taller, broader, and much more hairy than when she had last saw her. "You have a mustache."

Fitz nodded. "Georg is quite the master. He made it with my own hair, made several so I can replace them if I need to. Held with spirit gum. Passes muster even up close." Fitz offered her hand, helping Elsa to her feet, then pulling her close enough to examine the mustache in detail. Which she did, until interrupted by a strangely furry kiss.

Still, Elsa leaned into the embrace, relishing the strong arms holding her tight. Then…

She jumped back."Wait, what?"

Fitz grinned wolfishly. "The illusion must be complete. It helps me cut the right silhouette."

"But how?" Elsa gently touched the front of Fitz's trousers.

"I'm not sure you truly want to know all the particulars," Fitz responded. "But suffice to say that well cured sausage casing with varied amounts of India rubber allow a number of different moods for 'Captain Michael Fitzwilliam,' bodyguard for the Comptesse d' Artois and helpmate of …?"

"Oh," Elsa had to think for a moment for her assumed name. "Ilse Margaux Sommer."

"And you like warm hugs?" Fitz teased.

"Only from my husband." Elsa tapped the cheap wedding band on her right hand as Fitz tried to pull her closer.

"And my disguise?" Elsa deftly side-stepped the embrace and turned slowly around.

"Good." Fitz took in the brown hair, plain linen blue dress with a matching bonnet. Elsa's tired look, dark circles under her eyes and small lines visible on her face helped the illusion. Certainly she looked more like a beleaguered lady's maid than a queen. "I mean you look a lot like you— but with brown hair. I guess that's fine, though. No one really knows what you look like outside of Arendelle, and I suspect even those who do mostly remember the white hair."

"Platinum blond," Elsa sighed. "And I look like my mother."

"Oh," Fitz said pondering the remote possibility that someone in Avalon would have a clue what the late Queen of Arendelle had looked like, "is that a problem?"

"Only when I think how disappointed she would be that I lost Anna."

Fitz heard the tell-tale crack of ice, and saw the frost appear on the mirror. She put her hand on Elsa's shoulder. "Your mother wouldn't be disappointed, she would be furious - angry at the villains who did this. You didn't lose Anna and Kristoff, they were taken from you."

"Right." Elsa gave a weak smile.

"However — " Fitz pointed at the mirror, "the ice." The ruse wasn't going to last long if Elsa froze something unexpected in public.

"Oh," Elsa dissipated the coating with a wave of her fingers. "The gloves are on the bed, would you get them for me."

Fitz brought back the white satin gloves, noting how thin the barrier was between Elsa's magic and the outside world. "Will this work?"

Elsa took a deep breath as if preparing for a deep dive into the sea. Then she took the gloves and quickly pulled them on with well practiced motions. Her exhale was slow and wavering as she brought her hands up and stared at them. "It did before."


	6. Chapter 5

It was surprising to Elsa that the silence bothered her. After all those years, she would have thought that being alone in a room, in the inn near the Ledsham estate, would have been a relief — not a problem. But the silence grated on her nerves, as did the gloves, as did the horrible scenes that flashed through her mind when she thought of Anna. And Elsa had been sitting here alone with her thoughts for hours.

She moved to the window and pushed it open. Behind the inn was a small stand of trees that screened it from the waterfront where they had landed in the very early hours of the morning. Charlotte had secured all of the rooms here, above a small tavern, so Elsa knew she was essentially alone. Carolina and Georg — Michael and Georg she corrected herself — had gone to scout the entrances to the castle. The Comtesse was napping in the room next door.

The open window allowed the breeze to help clear the stuffy room. Cold didn't bother her, but heat did. Elsa removed her gloves placing them on a side table. Then with her hands on bottom of the window frame she leaned out and took a deep breath of the early fall air, craning her neck for a glimpse of the castle where they hoped, only hoped, that her sister and Kristoff were being held.

This was madness. Anna could be hundreds of miles away from here. She could be hurt, in pain, brutalized. Who knew what her captors were capable of? Anna … Anna could be dead.

The wood of the window groaned as it froze. With a start Elsa pulled her hands from the sill and thrust them outside. A stream of frost and ice shot from her hands into the woods, splintering a tree in its wake. She closed her eyes and tried to control it. Think of something warm, something safe, she chided herself, but that was a difficult task.

At last, she managed to pull the magic back into herself. She shivered, and she felt the trail of a tear running down her cheek. Quickly she pulled her gloves back on and then wiped it away. She was going mad. She needed a drink.

The tavern below the rooms was small, warm, and crowded. There was a carved wooden bar that curved around from the interior doorway, and a few tables scattered around the room. Booths on the outside walls under small windows and a plain red door to the street completed the decor. Elsa felt the urge to flee back up the stairs as soon as she came down them. But she couldn't stand to be alone anymore, and she was in no mood to try to wake the Comtesse let alone talk to her. Plus she was going to have to deal with strangers in the immediate future without the armor of being royalty. She might as well start doing that today.

Elsa took in her surroundings trying to decide where she should land. The bar was occupied by a line of men, farmers by their dress but not peasants. They wore the dress of people who worked hard but had enough money to enjoy themselves at a bar and had more than one set of clothes to wear when they went there. The booths and tables were occupied by a more mixed crowd. More men than women for sure, but some couples sat with each other enjoying food and drink. Two tables were occupied with what Elsa assumed was a local militia. They were clearly military men, most wearing swords, all in coal black jackets and pants with brilliant silver buttons closing the jackets up to their chins. There were, of course, no other single women. But fortunately there was one empty table, and it was there that Elsa sat.

"What can I get fer ya, luv?" The barmaid called as she deftly avoided the hands of the militia men.

"Wine, do you have wine?"

"Aye." The barmaid looked Elsa up and down. "But it's not cheap. I'll have to open the bottle ya know."

"Oh, I can … I mean, her Excellency the Countess de Artois has made arrangements." Elsa decided on the Avalonian version of the title.

"I see."

Elsa felt the bar maid's eye pierce into her soul, or whatever place lying came from. It felt strange, insulting … humiliating Elsa thought, to have someone question your word let alone your ability to pay for what you asked for.

"I'll have to ask him," the bar maid gestured with her head to the stout man behind the bar, the owner. "Sure you don't want sumthin' else?"

"No," Elsa answered firmly. "Wine, if you please." She watched the woman saunter away, resisting the urge to send a chill wind up her skirt. Maybe it would warm up her soul.

"Girl, if you need someone to share your wine. Me and the boys would be happy to help."

It took Elsa a moment to pinpoint who was speaking. But when one of the militia men winked at her, she knew she had her man.

"No, thank you." She answered and then fixed her gaze across the room. This tavern could use a painting or two.

"We'd even pay fer it if you'd come over here."

Elsa imagined a fine work she would call "The freezing of The Highlands" as a mural across the far wall.

"Oi, don't be rude. We just wanna talk."

The others chimed in, "Don't mean no 'arm girlie." "Didn't yer mother teach you manners."

Elsa heard the scraping of a chair and then an unshaven face reeking of beer loomed in front of her.

"Shy then. Hows about we join you?"

"No, thank you."

"Girl, you can't drink alone. Ain't right. Ain't right a girlie sitting by 'erself."

Elsa looked away. Then to her utter surprise a hand fixed itself under her chin and pulled her back.

"Come'on luv. Don't be that way."

Elsa went rigid and looked him square in the eyes, furious.

"I will thank you to unhand my wife."

Everyone at the two tables turned. Fitz took two steps closer intervening between the militia man and Elsa. "Back off, mate. We don't want trouble."

Elsa's assailant moved closer to Fitz. "I ain't yer mate, and you're the one making trouble."

"Please darling, go upstairs," Fitz gestured up the stairs and gave a reassuring smile to Elsa.

"Caro - Fitz. No. You come with me." Elsa put her hand on Fitz's arm and squeezed.

"I can't, dearest. But I shall be up soon."

"Dearie, do what yer fella says. You don't wanna be here when we teach 'im a lesson."

Fitz took Elsa's hand off her arm and gently kissed her palm. "Please, go upstairs."

"I won't …"

"Go." Fitz turned Elsa around and guided her to the staircase. "I shall be right up. You must trust me."

Elsa sighed but nodded and then ran up the stairs.

Fitz turned back and walked slowly to where militia men were standing. She placed her hand on the pommel of the sword at her side. "Now do we have a problem, gentlemen?"

"No boy, it's you who is got the problem. You don't got no manners. Don't respect the military." Both tables of the militia got to their feet and closed in around Fitz. "Seems you need a lesson."

"If you ill-mannered buffoons are representative of the military here, then I don't see why I should." She looked around at the men surrounding her. "Cowardly as well, I see." She poked the ringleader in his chest. "If you can't stand up for yourself."

"Mind your words boy. I'll wipe the floor wid you."

"Outside! Outside!" the man at the bar yelled. "No fighting in here."

Fitz nodded at the owner. "Of course, my good man." She started for the door, forcing her way through the circle of men. "Come now, if you're so impatient to school me. If you are not a coward," she remarked over her shoulder as she made her exit.

Once outside she looked carefully at the ground surrounding the tavern. It was dirt, packed by the near constant foot traffic. A good 20 feet was clear and hard, stone and root free, but she wouldn't need that much. There was a set of posts set off to the right, likely for horses. Fitz carefully folded her coat and placed it atop one. She heard the raucous group coming out the door. She turned and watched them assemble.

"Do you have a second?" Fitz called. She unsheathed her sword rechecking its balance in her hand. It was far and wide the finest sword she had ever held, and it felt like an extension of her arm, a very sharp deadly extension. Steel that was said to be able to cut through other lesser swords. And a gift from her beloved. She would use it well today.

"Loike I need a second, boy."

Fitz rolled her shoulders feeling her suspenders move and her shirt pull up from its tuck. She would not have to worry about those binding. She noted the traditional military style suspenders on her opponent, two shoulder straps coming together to one strap in the rear. His well muscled arms became apparent as he shed his heavy jacket and tossed it to one of his fellows standing near. His shirt was plain, no stock, as none was necessary with his uniform's high collar. A collar his thick neck strained against as he brought his sword to the ready.

Fitz brought her blade up in a salute and was not the least bit surprised when the larger man rushed at her with a roar. It was a shame, she thought, she never got his name.

The larger man swung at her head clearly intending a saber cut. He was surprised when Fitz countered by merely moving her head, arm and blade in a quarter turn, interposing her sword between his and her face. Her arm moved back several inches with the force of the blow, but she did not flinch, and he could not reach her. He could not overpower her block even even he leaned in with his heavier body. She blocked his next blow, too, one to the other side of her head, simply by moving her blade, again catching his edge with the flat of her weapon. Her expression was impassive, and if she was working to keep him from reaching her she didn't show it.

This continued for several long minutes. He tried moving more quickly, swiftly slashing from side to side. He tried varying shots from her head to her body and even one or two to her legs. As he increased his pace his blows had less force, but Fitz knew they were actually more deadly. Finally he tried a lunge at her chest. Fitz allowed his blade to run up hers, deftly deflecting it so it just passed her shoulder. She stopped him when they were hilt to hilt waited until he tried to overpower her one last time and then asked, as they were nose to nose, "Are you done with your lesson?"

When he responded with another grunt and push, she replied, "Good. Now I shall begin mine."

Fitz pushed back with her weapon but then dropped and ducked under her opponents blade as she disengaged. She turned behind him, and she brought her blade across his back leaving a shallow cut that parted both his suspenders and shirt and left a bloody score in its wake.

The man snarled in pain and whirled. He started a flurry of attacks that Fitz parried while backing up slowly to keep him at range. Then she changed trajectory, abruptly stepping to his left. When he moved his sword to follow her, she feinted a lunge before continuing behind him bringing the tip of her sword across his left side. He swore as blood seeped onto his ruined shirt, but whirled keeping his blade between them. Fitz started a series of slashes at his face and then with a firm double beat dropped her blade. He was forced to block across his body, blade down. Fitz extended and the force of his own block drove her point across his right side. He grunted in pain, and then started a long paragraph of foul language as his pants, no longer held by his suspenders, dropped down around his boots. Fitz thanked whoever was in heaven that he was wearing drawers even if they were not especially clean.

"You bloody cow's cunt," the larger man swore. Tripping forward he struck out again at Fitz. This time Fitz easily blocked his blade, disengaged and then performed a backhanded thrust through his hand guard and into his wrist. His hand spasmed and he dropped his sword. Fitz pushed on his hip with her own sending him sprawling. As he went down on his back she kicked his sword aside and then put her left boot on his chest, the point of her sword right over his heart.

"This is not a bloody game," Fitz said quietly. "It's life and death. Right now your death."

"Please," the larger man begged.

"A quick death here." Fitz poked at his chest and was rewarded with a small spot of blood that grew slowly. Then she dragged her sword down to his belly, leaving a thin line spreading red, this cut no deeper than the other superficial slashes bleeding into the dirt. "A much less quick death here. Although I will have the pleasure of imagining the pain you will be in as you die, your insides stinking and festering."

"Please."

"Or maybe," Fitz's blade dropped lower. "I just —"

"Captain Fitzwilliam! Stop that nonsense and come here instantly." Charlotte's voice rang out from the doorway.

Fitz sighed and brought her sword up. "You are saved by my employer's dulcet tones. But I do hope you take your lesson from this." Then with a nod to his fellows who were standing nearby, eyes wide, afraid to come any closer, she sheathed her sword and walked to the Comtesse.

"Your Excellency, how may I serve you."

"You can get your arse inside before I have to take a horsewhip to you."

"I was defending a lady's honor." Fitz offered her arm.

"I know what you were doing you idiot. Inside."

Charlotte dragged Fitz inside and to the bar. Once there she dropped a small pile of gold coins in front of the tavern owner.

"I will thank you in advance for your discretion. And I would appreciate it if after these fine people finish their dinners, you might close for the night."

"Oh, but nights my best time for business — with the drinking and all."

Charlotte added more coins to the pile.

"How could I ever refuse a lady such as you, your Grace?"

"Good. And if you would bring dinner and two bottles — no four bottles — of your best wine upstairs to my room."

"How much of a simpleton are you?" Charlotte turned on Fitz once they were in her room. "I am sure the news of a brilliant duelist who humiliated a man at the "Drunken Ox," or whatever this hellhole is called is not going to remain a secret. We were trying to be discreet."

"Spotted Cow," Elsa corrected, then she turned on Fitz, "Carolina, what did you do to that man?"

"He needed a lesson both in swordplay and in how not to offend a lady."

"But did you …"

Charlotte cut Elsa off. "And you. What in god's earth were you doing? First you freeze the forest, and then you go unaccompanied into a bar! Women do NOT go into a bar alone unless they want that — " Charlotte waved her hand " — sort of attention."

Elsa ignored the Comtesse,"I will not have you dueling in my name!"

"Do you not understand that the number of women in the world who can produce ice magically is somewhat limited?"

"Luv, I will not have wretched scum insulting you or any woman."

"You promised not to duel."

"In Arendelle. I will not slay your subjects, which really isn't a problem since they do not insult you. But here this is what one does unless one is a coward."

"For god's sake, the two of you. Shut up!" Charlotte raised her voice as much as she felt was wise. "You," she pointed at Fitz, "Keep that damn —

sword in your sheath until we need it. You," now Charlotte pointed at Elsa,"Fitz does these things for some god forsaken sense of honor that she holds dear, and that she doesn't in your kingdom is quite a measure of her love. Also please don't freeze things."

Fitz's tone turned to contrition,"It was my fault, Charlotte. I shouldn't have left her alone for so long. And she's never been in a tavern, well one that doesn't have her portrait on the wall." She was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Discreet," Charlotte muttered, as she gestured for Fitz to open the door. It was a pair chamber maids knocking. They carried both the wine and their dinner, two roast chickens with potatoes and some cabbage dish. "Discreet," she said again pouring herself a large glass of wine once the maids had left. "A discreet surveillance of the castle. Discreetly making our way into the bosom of Ledsham." She glared at Fitz. "Georg is in his room NOT causing a fuss. So you will at least tell us what you found. Then you can go tell him dinner is served."

Fitz took Elsa's hand in hers and addressed the queen directly. She noted Elsa was again wearing the gloves. "It is very highly likely Anna and Kristoff are here. There are an inordinate number of guards. Two different regiments by the look of it. One being Ledsham's own, which numbers about fifty men and two sergeants in its permanent full-time configuration and nearly one hundred with three officers at full strength. Then there is another, formed of the same blackguards who accosted you, in those black uniforms. They don't belong to Ledsham. I don't recognize them as any regiment from Avalon, and I know them all."

"What?" Charlotte was surprised.

"Foreign or mercenaries, or quite probably both." Fitz now turned to Charlotte. "That's expensive and supports the idea that something in that castle is important enough to guard. That in turn suggests that Anna and Kristoff…" Fitz hesitated, "That they are well enough to need guarding."

"Thank goodness," breathed Elsa, relief evident in her voice.

"Indeed," agreed Charlotte.

Fitz continued, "We spent most of the day watching the front gate. It's locked shut and under guard."

"Not the best news, even if it supports your previous theory." Charlotte tapped her lips with her forefinger.

"But in the morning, from quite early until almost noon, there is a lot of traffic. Food deliveries and what not. And some servants aren't resident, so they are coming in as well. "

"I would bet substantial sums that the guards get tired of unlocking and locking the gate. Plus there will be the confusion of two chains of command."

"Indeed," Fitz agreed, "Although the guard will be composed of the best men."

"At let's say, 7 am? Do you think the sergeant will reward his best men with an 7 am watch?"

"I would. If the mission needed my best."

"Yes, and I note you were an excellent officer. In your opinion is that true of Ledsham's?"

Fitz thought and then shook her head no. What she recalled included capricious orders and blatant favoritism. Of course any unit reflected it's head. A head that in this case might well be decorating the King's outer bailey.

"And at any rate," Charlotte stated, "I would certainly favor my grit in a battle of wills against any non-commissioned foot-soldier."

Fitz chuckled, "Indeed, they do not stand a chance."

Elsa was still thinking of Anna and Kristoff. "They are alive, and we've found them." She felt tears of relief welling in her eyes.  
Fitz pulled her close into a hug and stroked her hair. "And now we will get them back."


End file.
